puckandpie | (no subject)

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simon

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It's not a date. It's not. I know it's not. I don't even know if Simon likes guys at all so there's no reason to believe this could possibly be a date.

Unfortunately, my nerves are having a difficult time remembering this and by the time we reach DIA, I'm fidgeting and babbling more than I ever thought possible. My skates are slung over my shoulder and I keep switching my helmet from one hand to the other and I'm deep into the story of how I'd scored that goal against Yale back at Samwell and meeting Bad Bob Zimmermann and how well Jack and I had played on the ice together even if it'd been clear he wasn't too happy with having to skate with me. Remembering Jack's bad attitude is somehow a good memory these days even if it makes me ache in a way I have a feeling will never really go away. He'd gotten better once we'd played a few games together and, if nothing else, he's my teammate, a fellow Wellie, and I have no doubt, even now, that somewhere back home he's still fast on his way to graduating and, hopefully, making it back into the NHL. I know he's good enough, we all know he's good enough.

Hopefully he doesn't let his past demons overrule him ever again.

"Anyway, we were on the same line in the game I was playing just before I got here," I tell Simon as we climb the few steps up to DIA. I really can't seem to stop rambling. "We had a play all planned out and then I got checked into the boards, hit my head pretty hard. When I woke up, I was on the train platform here."

I hold the door open for Simon and wave at Wendy, one of the few women who works the front desk for the pool before heading toward the rental counter. "I had a concussion, too. I'm a lot better now, though. What size shoe do you wear?"

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I listen to Bitty's every word, even if I only understand around half of them. I don't know much about hockey at all, and each time I piece together a new term - NHL is what their professional league is called, lines are groups of players on the ice together - he's moving swiftly on to another one, and in the end I just enjoy the tide of his accented voice.

We're at the rink before I know it, and even though it's chilly outside, I still gasp in surprised pleasure at the chill coming from inside the rink. He was right - it really might be cool enough inside to prevent me getting into accidental mischief. We reach a counter, and I frown for Bitty's question. "Nine and a half at home," I answer. "I don't know what that is here." I frown at the attendant. "Can I try nine, ten and eleven?" I ask, turning to grin at Bitty.

Reaching over, I squeeze his shoulder. "Surely one will do."

"Oh goodness, I hadn't even thought of that!" I admit, feeling my cheeks color with embarrassment.

Simon at least doesn't seem flustered at all and the DeMarco just gives a quick nod before pulling out three different pairs of hockey skates and a helmet. "We'll bring at least two of these right back," I tell him, grabbing one of the two pairs and nodding over at the benches situated only a few feet away.

I find an open locker close by and toe off my shoes, tossing them in along with my phone, wallet, and keys, and slip my padlock through the loop, but not yet locking it. "You can put your stuff in with mine once we get you skates that fit," I tell him before settling on the bench beside him to pull on my skates. "Make sure the helmet fits, too. I had a friend back in high school who hit her head so hard on the ice she swore brain fluid came out of her nose."

"Fuck," I exhale, and I stick the helmet on first, pulling it down tightly over my hair. It seems to fit, and I reach for the middle pair of shoes next, pausing when I see the odd plastic straps. I tug hard on one, but it won't come free, and when I look over at Bitty's feet for a clue, I see that his have laces. They must only come with proper skates.

"Fuck," I murmur again, poking at the buckles. I hate to admit that I don't even know how to get my skates on, but I have no idea what I'm doing. "How does this work?"

Apparently, my story is enough to scare him into shoving on his helmet and I can't help but grin a little. It's not very nice, maybe, but it's... really cute.

I'm just putting on my right skate when I notice Simon struggling with the buckles of his. "Oh, shoot, let me," I tell him, reaching over to unsnap each one. "You use that little plastic strap to tighten them once they're on," I explain before sitting back up again. "I've had my own skates for so long, I always forget about these. They should fit pretty snug, though."

Sitting up, I tap the heel of my blade against the ground. "Your toe should barely brush the front. Rental skates are always a little trick, but you don't want them too tight or too loose if you can help it."

I watch Bitty and mimic him, fitting my foot into the skate and adjusting the straps, then tap my heel against the floor to settle my foot in the boot. "The tens fit," I say with a grin and put on my other skate. I stand up after to take the other pairs back to the counter, but it's really odd balancing on blades when you're used to your own feet.

"Shit," I laugh, taking a few wobbling steps with the other skates in my arms. "I may be hanging onto you the entire time out there."

After lacing up my other skate, I gather up his shoes and toss them in the locker, hiding a smirk as I click my padlock in place and watch him wobbling toward the counter.

"Here," I tell him, hurrying to catch up, taking one of the skate pairs from him so he can grab my shoulder for support. "I don't mind if you don't," I tell him, glancing over at him with a grin.

I'm trying to flirt, I'll admit it. I have no idea if it's working or not though and quickly shove my helmet on when I feel my cheeks heating up to smile. Holding my hand out for Simon, I lead him toward to rink door, holding it open with my other hand and stepping out onto the ice first. It's early enough in the day that there are only two other people on the rink with us, one of them clearly practicing her skating routine in the middle, doing a mix of leaps and spin.

"We can do a few laps around the edge until you get the hang of it," I tell him, squeezing his hand lightly. "And if you don't like it at all, we absolutely don't have to stay."

Unless I fall and break my head open, I'm definitely making it at least a few laps. Bitty's being nice, but he's pink cheeked and smiling and I can tell he really wants to do this, and I want to do it for him. I keep tight hold of his hand as I follow him out onto the ice, one foot after the other.

Pushing one foot forward an experimental few inches, my eyes widen, and I fling out a hand to grip the wall, too. "How does anyone do this?" I ask with another laugh, eyes widening further when I see the young girl spinning in the air in the middle of the ice.

"Can I watch you?" I ask Bitty. "Leaping about's not part of it, right?"

"Lots and lots of practice," I tell him, laughing a little as he clings to the boards. He's moving though, inch by careful inch, and that's definitely something. I honestly can barely even remember a time when being on the ice didn't feel like second nature, but I know it's not an easy skill at all for people just starting.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the girl for a second, silently critiquing her technique before turning my attention back on Simon with a grin.

"It doesn't have to be, no," I promise him. I can't seem to stop smiling. "I can do a quick, easy lap or two just so you can see though. Do you just want to stay here and watch?"

I can't imagine any lap of mine will be quick or easy, but I nod at him, eager to see how it's done. Just standing there Bitty already looks completely natural, and I'm far more impressed than I'm envious. It will be fun to watch him in his element. "Go on then," I tell him. "Give us a lap, but if you do any leaping I'm out of here," I add with a teasing squeeze of his hand before I release it.

"No leaps, I promise," I assure him, not letting myself think too much about the way he squeezes my hand.

Part of me wants to show off a little bit, do a quick lap as promised, but pappered with a few spins and leaps. But I haven't skated in a few weeks now and I'm not at all warmed up so it's probably for the best if I don't. Last thing I need is to end up with another concussion or, worse, embarrass myself in front of Simon.

So I gently let go, making sure he as a firm grip on the boards before sliding backwards and then slipping into an easy glide. I'm aware of his eyes on me the whole time and I keep my strides long and slow and easy. No super speed this time around. As I pull up behind him again, I turn easily so I can keep facing him, blades digging into the ice to stop myself.

"See, it's not too scary," I tell him, gliding closer. "That was definitely faster than I expect you to handle on your first try and you don't have to love it like I do, but I hope it's at least a little fun!"

I try to watch his feet, where he puts them down and how he's able to move himself forward when all my feet want to do is slide in place, but in the end I just end up watching Bitty. He's so graceful - fluid, I think as he glides along, and he comes to a sudden stop facing me as if it's nothing at all.

"Wow," I say, honestly amazed, and I push away from the wall, eager to at least try what he's made look so effortless. "So I kick off on one foot, glide on the other, then repeat on the other side?" I ask, but even as I try it, I have to reach suddenly for him when my feet go in opposite directions. "Can you pull me along first?" I ask. "Might do better to learn proper balance."

"Basically, yes," I tell him, though I know it sounds a lot easier than it actually is on first try. "The hardest part in the beginning is just keeping balance so try to focus on that first. Don't worry too much about speed or stopping. We'll get to that."

I'm surprised when he actually asks me to pull him and I'm hopeful that my visor at least hides some of the flush to my cheeks and, if not, that he can attribute it to the cool air. Sliding closer, I take both his hands in mine, holding tight and waiting as he stands up a little straighter.

"Let me know when you want me to let go," I tell him quietly, easing backward carefully and keeping my grip tight the entire time. The best thing about this is I have an excuse to watch him the whole time and I still can't help grinning as I take in the curve of his smile and breadth of his shoulders. He's not as tall or as strong as Derek, but not too many people here are and Simon's so, so nice.

And I still don't know if there's even a possibility here.

He begins to pull me along, and I alternate between staring at my feet and the smile on his face behind his visor. It's fun, even if I'm not controlling any part of it but staying upright, and the wind kicked up feels good on my face. Now and then, I make an experimental kick of a foot. I'm almost having too fun a time to let go of him, even though I know I'm meant to eventually, and when we glide by one of the bleachers I hear someone mention that the couple on the ice looks 'cute.'

I remember being a cute couple. I'm nothing special to look at, but Agatha is beyond lovely, and we looked good together. It doesn't even occur to me that they might be talking about Bitty and I until I realize the other pair on the ice couldn't be together.

"Do they mean us?" I ask Bitty, brow furrowed.

I don't miss the comment from the bleachers and instantly know they're talking about me and Simon, my face going red hot. Not knowing how he'll react, I desperately hope Simon hasn't heard but that's dashed in only seconds.

"I, uh," I glance at the two other people on the ice like maybe I'm unsure before finally nodding, my heart thudding in my chest. "I think maybe. Probably."

I don't say anything else for a moment and Simon doesn't look too upset. Yet.

Swallowing, I loosen my grip on his hands, preparing myself for him wanting to let go, but not moving too far way in case the inevitable shift in weight knocks him off balance. He's bigger than me, but not too much; I could at least ease the fall.

Finally, I gather enough courage, though I keep my eyes on his skates as I ask, "Does that bother you?"

Edited 2015-11-24 00:30 (UTC)

I feel Bitty's grip loosen, and I grasp him more tightly on instinct, not yet ready to try moving on my own. He sounds different, and I can't see his face anymore thanks to the tilt of his helmet, but I think he's unhappy.

"No," I say honestly, and I probably think about it too long before I realize something. "Bitty," I say, and I'm genuinely unsure, both because I've never actually been on one, and because I have no idea if Bitty thinks of me that way. He smiles and flushes around me more than anyone I know, but perhaps that's just Bitty. "Is this a date?"

His answer isn't shocking exactly, but it does surprise me. Even back at Samwell, I was pretty much surrounded by straight guys and, while none of them had ever said a single mean or homophobic thing to me, I'm not sure many of them would've been too happy about being mistaken as my date.

But I still don't know if Simon's straight, of course. Maybe I'm just too used to hoping for the best and assuming the worst.

It's encouraging though, as is the tight grip he still has on my hands. Though that could just be self-preservation. I lift my head to look at him and his eyes are kind, his expression nothing but curious. He definitely doesn't look like he's accusing me of anything even if maybe he should.

"It doesn't have to be," I finally respond, still watching him carefully as I slow to a stop on the ice. I'm still holding his hands. "It's. I mean, I've done this with friends before so it's not..." I trail off, grimacing as I realize I owe it to him to be honest. "I guess I was sorta hoping it could be. But it doesn't really count if both parties aren't aware. I'm sorry. I should've said something or at least told you, uhm. Told you that I'm gay. But I really like you and I didn't want to scare you off and it's okay if you're not into guys or, if you are, it's okay if you're not into me, I just really like hanging out with you. This... this doesn't have to be anything."

I don't really notice when we stop. According to Penny I don't notice a lot of things, and I'm sure she's right, but I definitely noticed that Bitty likes blokes. Maybe not exclusively, but there's no mistaking the way he talks about Derek.

I shrug. "I figured you were," I admit. "I guess I was kind of thick about the date part. I've never actually gone on one." I smile a little, but it's mostly nerves - by my age, I'm probably meant to have. "There was never time at home, and as soon as I was old enough to know what kissing was, there was Agatha."

I frown, but I still don't let go of his hands. I like holding them, and for a split second I remember the sight of Baz and Agatha in this same position, the jealousy that had spiked through me, and how it had entirely dissipated when I saw her again. Not because I was relieved, I finally realize - because I didn't really care if she liked someone else. I cared that she liked Baz.

Merlin, I'm a mess. "I don't really know what I like," I say after what's probably a long time. "Is that okay?"

Agatha. I try to remember if he's ever mentioned her before, but the name doesn't sound familiar. I get the impression she's a girlfriend, though. Or maybe an ex-girlfriend, it's kind of hard to tell.

And I know one person really doesn't mean anything, but I feel my heart sink all the same. Only for a second though.

He's still holding my hands, hasn't made any move at all to pull away and, even if it takes him a long time to speak again, there's enough uncertainty to give me a flicker of hope.

"Not knowing is okay," I tell him, giving him my best comforting smile as I squeeze his hands gently. "I think a lot of people don't know for awhile. I'm lucky there, I guess - I've known for years even if I haven't been able to really tell many people. I should've told you, though," I tell him with an apologetic grimace. "If, uhm. Like I said, we don't have to call this a date. But maybe... maybe if you'd like to sometime, we could have one. A real one. Dinner and a movie or a walk or I think there's a museum here I haven't gone to yet or, uhm. Or something. I haven't really ever been on one either so I'm not exactly an expert."

"Dinner and a movie," I say. That's definitely a date, I've heard it said loads of times, and now that I've done it halfway with Bitty, I want to do it proper. My scalp itches for the grip of the helmet, and I pull it off, running my fingers through my hair to scratch at it.

When I look back at Bitty, I let myself see him, which is a weird thing to say when he's half obscured by his own helmet, but it's true. I look at him like he's a person I might kiss, at his mouth pursed beneath the edge of his visor, his hands I'm still holding onto.

I let go of one, kicking off with the barest pressure to try skating again, and it's easier this time. I'm not graceful, but I'm moving, and I think - I think I'd like to kiss him.

"When do you want to go?"

He pulls his helmet off and I immediately hold onto his hand tighter, afraid of him accidentally falling and cracking his head open on the ice. He scratches at his head and I watch the fall of his curls then realize a second later that he's staring at me, staring like he's trying to decide something.

My cheeks feel really, really warm.

He starts moving before I do and it's not far, but I have to move a little out of the way to make room for him, still holding onto one of his hands.

"Wow, you really want to?" I ask, flushing harder when I realize how pathetic that probably sounds. "Uhm. Goodness. Maybe... maybe this weekend? I normally work, but I could see about switching some hours. If you're free then, of course."

He's blushing, and Penny's right, I am thick. He's been doing that all this time and I never realised. It's so charming it makes my stomach twist.

"I'm always free," I say, because I still haven't thought twice about finding a job. "Will you be recovered?" I ask, "After all that baking?"

That definitely sounds like a yes and for a long moment, I can't stop staring at him. I feel a little like maybe I'm in shock. He's just... he's so good-looking and nice and he has that accent and even if he isn't even sure if he likes boys, he's still saying yes. To me.

Laughing a little at his question, I shake my head. "I'll have all of Friday to recover," I tell him. "Longer if you want to wait until Sunday. Either way, it doesn't matter. It'll be really nice to have something to look forward to."

I can feel him looking at me, and I dare a quick glance over, one short enough I hope won't make me fall, but he looks happy enough. It's hard to say with that helmet. "Saturday then?" I ask. Fuck, I'm probably meant to have something nice to wear. I wonder if I can study Baz's closet without him noticing.

"When did you know?" I ask. "I mean, that you were into blokes? Is it only blokes?"

There's a slight jolt in his muscles when he glances over at me and I instinctively grip his hand a little tighter, just in case. He's fine though, still gliding along right beside me.

I'm holding hands in an ice rink with a cute boy who just agreed to go on a date with me. I need one of those internal screaming gifs to properly describe how I'm feeling in this exact moment. Goodness.

"Saturday sounds perfect," I agree, my smile only faltering a little at his question. It's honestly not something I've discussed with anyone, not even Shitty. As great as he'd been about me coming out to him, it was just one of those things we never really talked about afterward. I'm not sure why; I don't think my sexuality ever really bothered him. We just had other things to talk about, I guess.

I feel my face flush again, laughing again as I squeeze his hand. "Just guys, yeah. Blokes. I, uhm. I tried to have a girlfriend once. I even kissed her. But it only lasted about three weeks and I felt weird the whole time. What, uh... what about you? Has it only been Agatha?"

"Yeah," I say, a little subdued. "She chucked me right before I got here. We'd been together for years. We were meant to be, you know?" I ask him. "Everyone said so. And we were going to get married if I made it out of everything alive."

I fall silent for a moment, feet still pushing at the ice, and I hardly notice when Bitty guides us around a turn. "She said she didn't want to be my happy ending." Maybe I did treat her like that, a prize. I never meant to. "I don't think I was a very good boyfriend," I admit. "I liked to think that I would have someone, a future - it made it easier to fight. But that's not the same as loving a person, is it?"

"Goodness, was that a real worry for you back home? That you could actually die?" It isn't the first time he's made things sound dire, but I can't remember him really talking about death before. Just stuff about controlling his magic and his somewhat unhappy home life and his possibly evil roommate.

We're going at a pretty steady speed now and Simon only seems to falter a little when we pass over gouges in the ice. He's still not letting go of my hand though and I'm sure as heck not about to.

"I'm... I guess I really don't know much about that myself," I admit quietly, my thoughts slipping to Derek for a little too long. The kind of love he's talking about is the mutual kind; not the unrequited crushing of a stupid kid. "But I don't see why wanting a happy ending is wrong. Just, maybe it's not with her." Giving his hand a light squeeze, I smile over at him. "The good news is you have plenty of time to figure out how to be a good boyfriend. How old are you anyway? When's your birthday?"

"Dunno," I shrug, and I have to hang onto him for a moment with both hands before I get my feet back. When I'm steady again, I say, "Between seventeen and nineteen, I just say eighteen. No one is really sure. My mate Penny told me to pick a day once, but it felt too strange."

I don't think it's terrible of me, either, to want a happy ending. It's just that, as I get older, expecting one seems more and more childish. I don't think that of Bitty, though. I'm just glad that life had been kinder to him, at least in matters of life and death. "Back home was - " I say, faltering around the explanation. "The magickal world was in danger of going extinct. The Humdrum, our greatest threat - he kept stealing magic. I was the most powerful, so I was the one meant to fight him. But I never figured out quite how I was meant to beat him."

I'm still balking at the idea that he's never celebrated his birthday before when he pushes onto the next unbelievable thing. Not for the first time, I'm reminded of Harry Potter - the parallels between their lives is pretty uncanny at times. I can only imagine the conversation if the two of them were to ever meet!

"Did you fight him?" I ask, instinctively holding his hand tighter again. "Forgive me for saying so, but that seems like an awfully big responsibility for a teenager. Also," I add, reaching across go give him a light poke with my free hand. "Don't think I'm gonna let that birthday thing slide. I'll pick a day myself if I have to. Everyone deserves a day to celebrate themselves."

"Not quite," I answer for his first question, and I'm thankful for the pressure from his hand when my thoughts go that awful night, with poor Penny caught in the thick of it, trying to hex away the wings I'd grown to escape him. "Someone has to," is all I say for fighting the Humdrum. And I can, or I'm meant to - it doesn't really matter. He kept coming for me all the same.

I think about birthdays instead. I never really missed mine. There wasn't time for it, space for it, but maybe Darrow will be different. "When's your birthday?" I ask Bitty, curious, skin still humming with that tiny poke. The thought of Bitty celebrating anything, even himself, makes me smile. "What do you do for it?"

It seems like a strange response, but also not at the same time. After all, I suppose he must be right. When there's evil in the world, there has to be someone willing to fight it and who better than a scarily-powerful wizard? Even if he is only seventeen or eighteen or nineteen.

Still, it seems like a whole lotta pressure for just one person. And I thought moving out of state seemed intimidating.

He seems pretty happy to not talk about that though so I easily let the conversation slide back into something a little more fun. "May fifth," I tell him. "Which I think technically makes me nineteen now since it was April back home but August when I landed here. I skipped right over my birthday, but I guess that's okay though since I didn't really have anyone to celebrate with for awhile. I usually just have a party and eat a lot. Sometimes people bring presents and sometimes not, but it's always nice to be reminded that people are glad to have you around, you know? Have you really never celebrated once? At all?"

"The Mage used to tell me happy birthday in June," I offer. "That's when he found me, when I was eleven-ish. But I always liked Christmas. I used to spend it with Agatha's family. Her mom always gave me clothes, and Professor Wellbelove talked to me like I wasn't destined to die in a ball of fire. That was nice."

I wonder what I'll do now that I'm stuck here. Agatha and I might have broken up, but surely I'd still come for Christmas - I did even before we were together. The holidays next month are going to be awfully lonely, but perhaps Bitty will let me hang out with him. "I'll bring you a present," I say. "For your birthday. See what all the fuss is about," I add with a grin. "And eat. I love to eat."

"Oh, jeez, did everyone else talk to you that way?" I ask, cringing a little. "That's horrible." It sounds like his exes family was nice, at least. I wonder if that makes breaking up with her even harder, but it seems a little rude to ask already. Maybe later, though. Maybe on our actual date.

I've lost count of how many laps we've done now and Simon is still skating strong. He'll wobble occasionally, but I secretly like that a little bit because it means he grabs onto me for support.

"You absolutely do not have to bring me a present," I tell him with a grin and another squeeze of his hand. "Meeting you has been a nice gift all by itself. And I would love to bake you something sometime. Though maybe not for the date because I'm pretty sure I'll have pushed all my baking muscles to their limit by that point and I'll need a little bit of a recovery period. Soon, though."

Maybe I'll surprise him with those sour cherry scones, actually. I wonder if he'd like that.

The cold air feels better than ever, even that I want to take my helmet off and let it blow through my curls, too - I don't - but it takes me a bit to realise I'm blushing. No one's ever treated meeting me like a gift. A few have stuck their mobiles in my face to get a picture, but that doesn't feel at all the way Bitty makes me feel.

Like I'm a person. That he likes me.

My skates falter, and I look down and realise that there's too much heat coming off of me, my blades slipping too deep into the ice. "Shit," I mutter, "Sorry," and look helplessly at Bitty. "Sometimes it happens when I'm happy, too."

I swear I can actually see the creep of pink across his cheeks, the sight of it making something flip inside my stomach. It's possible I'm coming on a little too strong, but he's still smiling, at least. There's always a chance he'll decide he doesn't like guys after all, or that he doesn't like me, but he at least seems happy about the attention right now and I figure that's something.

It takes a second for me to realize I've skated about a foot ahead of him and I look back, curious, only to see him frowning down at his skates.

"Oh," I say, eyes wide when I take in the blades half sunken into the ice. "Oh my, that's really possible?" Then I feel my own face flush again as I look up at him, his palm like a furnace against mine. "You... you get all warm when you're happy, too?"

Goodness, that... that could cause some interesting circumstances, I imagine.

"Sometimes?" I say, looking around to see if the attendants have noticed yet. At least nothing is steaming. "It's more like, I have to concentrate to keep it all inside of me, and if I'm not, it leaks out. Stay cool," I murmur, and it must help, because I don't sink any further.

The ice, however, is now refrozen around the skates. "Merlin," I swear, wrenching one foot from the ice. I chance a look at Bitty. "Sorry. They can fix the ice, right? Make more?"

Simon mutters what I know is a spell and then has to yank his skate free of the ice. Holding onto his hand so he doesn't just topple right over, I try and completely fail to bite back a laugh, attempting to hide it behind my hand.

"They can fix it, yes," I assure him, loosely slinging an arm around his middle so he can lean on me as he pulls his other skate free. "They'll bring in a zamboni soon and resurface the whole rink. I can't believe you actually melted it, that's amazing. Have you ever melted anything else on accident before?"

Bitty laughs at me, and it instantly makes everything better. It can't be so terrible if he's laughing, and I lean into him and tug my other foot free, drifting towards the edge of the rink. "Too many things," I admit, adding, "Not people. I've never hurt anyone on accident. Even when I'm not in control, my magic shields people."

I stop against the wall of the rink. "That's how the Mage found me at the care home. I was eleven and I had a nightmare. When everyone woke up, the care home was a smoldering hole, and everyone in it besides me was streets away."

I grimace, remembering. "I did melt my bedroom wall the other day."

Keeping close, I follow Simon to the edge of the rink, a little disappointed to have to let go though I know it has to happen sometime. It's easy not to dwell on that at all though as he answers my question, my eyes growing wider and wider with every word.

"Oh my gosh," I breathe. "That's... honestly, that sounds terrifying. I can't imagine destroying a whole building with a nightmare or, or... melting a wall. You really are powerful, aren't you?"

Thing is, if I'd met Simon back home, back at Samwell, I'd probably just think he's crazy with all this stuff. But after being in Darrow for months now and meeting ghosts and werewolves and Harry Potter, not to mention actually seeing a little bit of what he can do, I know he's telling the truth. And it's... goodness, it's impressive. All I can do is bake a few pies and land a really nice double Salchow.

"I'm glad there's a shield! I can't imagine just accidentally incinerating people. Oh! I wonder if this means you could heat up a pie just by touching it!"

"I am," I admit, because the longer we know one another, the more obvious it will be. There'd be no point in hiding it even if I wanted to. "I'm just crap at controlling it. I could heat a pie though," I say, smiling again for his enthusiasm. "Any mage could with some like it hot." I say the words carefully without magic.

"We could try it sometime. But on a pie you're not sure about first, just in case I catch it on fire. I'd feel bad if I wrecked one you worked hard on."

As young as he is, I imagine there has to be some way for him to learn to control it eventually. It probably just takes years and years of practice and maybe the sort of dedication like Jack with his hockey or Derek with his cooking. He's also probably already considered that himself so I keep it to myself for now, laughing a little as I shake my head.

"The good news is, it'd just be a pie. Not a building. But if you're really worried, we could try it first with just a cookie -- I can make those in my sleep."

Glancing down at his skates briefly, I cock my head as I look up at him. "Do you wanna call it a day on the skating or go around a few more times? I know, uh. Last time you said something about going to catch dinner. We still can if you want, if that's not too weird after everything."

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