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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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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