puckandpie | a christmas dinner [dated 12/23/2015]

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simon

a christmas dinner [dated 12/23/2015]

I'm not sure whether or not this really counts as a romantic dinner. Considering the fact that my stomach is all tied up in knots for entirely the wrong reasons, I'd say it isn't, but it's still a dinner for two and I even made a centerpiece out of a little mini-wreath and a big red candle. Dinner itself is a simple fettuccine alfredo with garlic bread, a ceasar salad, and some homemade eggnog. And pie, of course. Sour cherry. I can only hope it goes over as well as the scones.

His presents -- a jar of sour cherry jam, an electric fan for his bedroom, a four-month skating pass to DIA, and a cookbook of easy recipes -- are all individually wrapped and sitting on the counter. The wrapping paper for the fan is a little scratched up thanks to Elvis deciding the ribbon was a toy, but I'm hoping he either won't notice or mind too much.

I'm just putting Elvis into his little playpen (I've discovered it is absolutely impossible to eat while he's out and shutting him away in my bedroom just breaks my heart so playpen it is) when the doorbell rings.

"Okay," I tell Elvis as he meows up at me. "You be a good boy, y'hear?"

Pulling in a breath and smoothing out the front of my button-up, I open the door, smiling immediately when I see Simon. And ignoring the sharp pang in my chest that knows this smile isn't going to last.

I'm not doing anything today though. Not right before Christmas.

"Hi!" I say instead, holding open the door for him. "You're right on time!"

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"Hey," I greet, returning his smile at once. Bitty's apartment smells amazing as soon as the door opens, and I groan a little in pure desire, though I school my face into something a bit less awful when I bend to kiss his cheek. "It smells amazing in here," I tell him, holding the wrapped present I've brought him.

"Pie, and something garlic?"

He kisses me on the cheek as he steps in and it feels so, so nice. Familiar and comfortable. It's so easy to be around Simon, he's just so warm (often literally) and kind and maybe if I just try to let it happen...

Goodness, I really need to stop thinking about this.

"Garlic bread," I confirm as I hold my hands up to take his coat. "And fettucini alfredo. Glancing down at the box in his hand, my grin widens a little and I give him a wink. "Is that for me or Elvis?"

"For you," I say, glancing in apology towards Elvis in his little playpen. "Sorry, mate." I look around at the rest of Bitty's place - he's done a lovely wreath, and there's a candle, and I sigh in satisfaction. I really do love Christmas. But then my eyes light on his small row of gifts.

"It's just the one," I say for my own gift, holding it out with a sheepish expression.

From his pen, Elvis lets out the saddest little meow in reply and throw him a soft, sympathetic smile before turning my attention back on Simon.

"Oh goodness, don't you dare apologize," I tell him, taking the package with one hand and reaching out to squeeze his other one before pushing up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Part of me almost wishes this didn't feel so nice, like that might make it easier. Part of me almost wishes Simon wasn't so damn nice.

Not that I'm doing anything today. I'm not.

"It's not a contest by any means and I've been making really good money with all the baking at Semele's so I decided to splurge a bit. Do you wanna open presents now or after dinner?"

I grin and hang my head. "I've never been good at waiting," I admit, my eyes darting between the presents for me and back. At least Bitty's gift is nice - a set of fancy measuring bowls (in porcelain, according to Baz), shaped to look like peaches, and little measuring cups flourished with large Bs inside the cups. The woman at the store had assured me they were both lovely and practical.

"You want to go first?" I ask.

Grinning wider at the way Simon glances over at the presents, I drag him the few steps over there, setting mine on the counter before nodding at him, practically bouncing on my toes. I love gift-giving. It's easily my favorite part of all of Christmas after the requisite baking.

"How about you do a couple first," I tell him, "and I'll pour us some eggnog."

That's a wicked idea, especially when I think about opening four presents after Bitty's just opened his one, and I nod. I pull the largest to me first, somehow managing to wait for Bitty to return with the eggnog before I tug all the paper off to see what's inside.

I laugh for the sight of the fan. "I haven't set anything on fire in weeks," I tell him, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. I'm warm all the time, but with the joining wall down, I don't like to leave the windows open like I did at home. Somehow tormenting Baz with the wintry air is less fun when we're not at school. "This is perfect, Bitty, thank you."

I can't keep the smile off my face as he laughs, clearly taking the gift in the spirit I'd intended. Some part of my has been nervous after I bought it, worried that he'd think I was making some kind of dig when, really, I just know he's always warm and I can't imagine that's gonna get easier when the weather starts turning back toward spring.

"It's just to keep you cool at night if you need it," I tell him, grinning against the rim of my glass. "If I was really worried, I'd have bought you a fire extinguisher." I nudge him playfully with my elbow and give him a wink, nodding down at the packages. "Go on, open another one."

"I can't believe I didn't think of it myself," I admit. There were no fans at Watford or the care homes, and it never occurred to me to buy one. That's carried over to Darrow, but now my nights will be more pleasant.

At his urging, I grin and reach for the smallest present. When I unwrap it, there's a jar, and I don't have to open it to guess. "Sour cherry?" I ask, slinging my arm around his waist.

"Sour cherry," I confirm, smiling faintly to myself. "That one was impulse by. I was at a specialty shop and they had a whole wall of jams. I saw that one in the middle and couldn't resist."

He has an arm wrapped around me and part of me so so badly just wants to lean into him. I could kiss him right now, maybe ask him to stay over. We could make it a really romantic, actual date sorta thing, but I know I'd spend most of the night thinking about someone else and Simon doesn't deserve that. Even if I'm not saying anything tonight I know I shouldn't lead him on.

"Okay, my turn!" I say, forcing a smile as I slip out of his embrace to set down my eggnog and pull the present he's brought me closer. His gift is heavier than all the ones I got him and I'm careful as I pull aside the wrapping and pop open the box. "Oh! Oh Simon, these are gorgeous!" I pull one of the bowls out carefully, my smile easily turning genuine as I let out a laugh. "They're shaped like peaches!"

"I looked up Georgia," I admit, grinning widely as I watch his face. He looks so happy, it makes me even happier than my own gifts. "Peaches came up loads of times. I thought they looked to pretty to use, but the clerk assured me you can use them every day if you like."

He's pulled away from me and he's holding breakables, so I don't try dragging Bitty back, but I still want to hug him in victory. "And then there's littler cups," I add, "Half cup and quarter cup and all that."

I reach in as he mentions the smaller cups, each of them emblazoned with a beautiful little B. "Goodness, these are wonderful! I can't wait to start using them!" I tell him, still grinning from ear to ear as I turn around to wrap him in a hug. And maybe I shouldn't, I don't know, but I tell myself I'd hug any friend who gave me something so thoughtful. Nevermind that there's a part of me that would like to keep hugging him for awhile and nevermind that I quite deliberately don't kiss him when I pull away. Even if I'd still like to.

Letting go, I keep my head ducked as I gently place the cups back on the counter and then nudge the thicker of the remaining two packages toward him. "Come on now, you're not done yet."

I don't want to let go of him. The pressure of his body against mine is so comfortable, the top of his head just about where Baz was when he was a cat, which is such an odd thing to think about that I don't protest when Bitty pulls away again.

I pull the next present to me, and I know at once that it's a book. I gave Penny one every year, and there's no mistaking the shape of it. I pull away the paper and raise both brows. "Do you think I can manage it?" I ask, though of course I'm game to try. "They'll have to be quite simple recipes, Bits."

"They're all easy recipes," I assure him, laughing a little at his uncertainty. "As long as you know how to measure things and set a time, you'll be just fine. And, you know, if you ever need help or get stuck on anything, you can always call me."

That is, if he ever even wants to speak to me again. After. I guess, for now, I should enjoy his friendship while I still can.

The last gift is just tucked into a card, one bearing a decorated tree with the line 'Here's to a Magical Christmas!' written on the front, and I slide it over. "Last one and dinner time," I tell him, grabbing my eggnog for another sip.

I really should've thought to add brandy to it.

"Magical," I read off, still warmed by his faith in me, and open the card. Four whole months of skating are in there. "Will you come with me?" I ask Bitty, smiling over the top of the card. "You're the expert, after all." I've seen a bit of hockey since we started dating. It actually looks brilliant. "And I quite like the idea of whacking one of those sticks about."

For right now, right in this second, I can let myself believe it's a possibility. I'd gotten him the membership weeks ago, back before I really realized what it is I'm doing and I'd hoped then that he'd want me to go with him. I still do. I definitely do.

I'm just not sure he will in a week or so, or whenever it is I get the courage to say something.

"I'll absolutely be there if you want me to be," I tell him because that at least is the truth. Shooing him towards the table, I dish up his plate of alfredo and two slices of garlic bread and place it before him. "I was actually thinking of maybe setting up some kind of skating or hockey workshop in January. Interested?"

"Sure," I answer at once, with very little idea of what a workshop is. "What happens at those, exactly?" He sets the plates down, and I pull my chair out and sit, wincing when bending tugs at my side. Between the painkillers and Baz's spells, I keep forgetting the wound is even there, but the stitches pulling remind me straight away.

I press a hand to my side and try to smile. "It really does smell amazing, Bitty."

"The first one will probably be really general," I tell him and I'm just about to go into exactly how general when I notice the way he winces and touches his side as he's sitting down and my expression drops into a frown. "Simon?"

His smile is strained and it's clear he's not about to fall over or anything, but he's still clearly in pain. "Goodness, are you okay?"

"I'm alright," I say quickly, because I am, and I don't want him to worry. But even more than that, "It's stupid." I wait a beat, but I know I need to explain myself.

"There was a thing," I say reluctantly. "A herd of unicorns. They really didn't mean to hurt me, but my magic made them a bit mental, and one of their horns got me."

I stare pink cheeked across the table at Bitty. "There's a few stitches, that's all."

It takes me a second to really understand what it is Simon's saying and then, "Are you telling me you got stabbed by a unicorn?"

Even after only four months in this place, I know I shouldn't be surprised. Heck, I'm half in love with a werwolf and dating a guy who is basically Harry Potter -- but not actually Harry Potter because, of course, he's here too -- so unicorns certainly are not out of the ordinary.

I'm still speechless for a second, part of me wondering why he didn't tell me earlier and another part wondering if I should even be upset that he didn't. "Stitches," I finally say stupidly. "I'm... What. When?"

"A few days ago," I admit, watching him with another wince, though this one springs entirely from the dumbfounded look on Bitty's face. "I think he just wanted a nuzzle, but they got a bit frenzied. It happens, sometimes."

I look down at my plate. It still smells amazing, but my appetite is dwindling. "After...after the lodge, and the mistletoe," I say haltingly, and it's dizzying, how instantly I finally understand what Agatha was talking about. "I know it's a lot. Just being around me. I didn't want to frighten you with more of that madness."

Simon hasn't even picked up his fork yet to eat and that's how I know it's bad. Not that pain, I don't think, but there's guilt written all over his face when he mentions Kagura and the fire and my chest actually aches.

"No," I tell him, shaking my head as I drop my hands into my lap and slumping slightly. "Simon, no. It's not... I mean, I was scared. I can't say I wasn't. But that's not... I know that isn't something you can control and you're... you're a wizard. That's pretty amazing even with the spontaneous fire."

I honestly have no idea how to say what needs to be said and I still don't want to do it now, but that look on his face awful. Sighing, I rub a hand across my jaw. "I really like you. It's. Are we... have you been considering me your boyfriend?"

I look up at Bitty in surprise, then frown. "I suppose I haven't," I admit. I've only had one girlfriend before, and I made sure to properly ask her. With Bitty, even though there's been no one else, I've just been...enjoying myself. Enjoying him. There's something that's holding me back from thinking of it as official, but I don't know what it is. Things like the bloody unicorns, perhaps.

"Have you thought of me that way?"

It's probably telling that I feel a lot more relieved than disappointed by his answer, but the fact that I feel disappointed at all, probably says something, too. I know, though... I know I can't keep hoping this will turn into something more when I spend so much of my time wondering about someone else. Simon of all people doesn't deserve that.

Letting out a breath, I shake my head. "Baz seems to think we are," I tell him, and the way I say his name is decidedly not favorable, "but... no, I haven't been. I do like spending time with you, though," I rush to add because that feels important. "I really do. You're honestly one of the best parts about this place."

I don't expect him to bring up Baz, and I wonder what's between them. I warned Bitty away from him ages ago, but in the time since, Baz has been different, kinder, though the way Bitty says his name now, I wonder if that kindness has only extended to me.

"Baz has been," I start, but I have no idea how to finish that. "I hope he hasn't been awful to you. I really like spending time with you, too, Bits." And I feel like something is happening here, but I don't know how to stop it. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I ask, and even as I say it, it sounds more like a question than an invitation.

It doesn't feel right to tell Simon how unpleasant Baz has been lately. I know why he has been and I guess, on some level, I can't blame him. If our roles were reversed, if Derek was dating someone else, I might have a hard time with it, too.

I'd like to think I wouldn't be a jerk, but I know not everyone reacts the same.

There's a hesitance in his question and, even so, there's a part of me that wants to say yes. But it's less about Simon -- as wonderful as he is -- and more that I just want to be a boyfriend. I want someone to like me, to want me around enough, to be proud to call me theirs. And that's not fair. Simon deserves someone better, someone who truly loves him or could love him.

And I don't know if that could be me right now.

As sure as I am, it still hurts when I shake my head, the heavy weight of guilt unmistakable in my stomach. "You really are wonderful," I tell him, desperate he not take it personally. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

It's a lie. I know exactly what's wrong with me. But telling the boy I've sort of been seeing for the past month that I've been stupidly gone for a werewolf this entire time, seems needlessly mean.

I don't even understand what that means. He doesn't want to be my boyfriend, and I'm not sure if he wants to even date, but there's a meal and presents and that feels like a date. But the thing that sends the stab of anxiety into my gut is that Bitty looks sad, and I stand up, dragging my chair over to his so that we're close.

"Bits," I say, "I don't quite get what's happening here. Do you want to see other people and me? Or..." My stomach sinks, and again I think of Agatha, how hard it'd been to understand that she didn't want to be mine anymore. We made so much sense together, but Bitty and I...we make sense, too, but he doesn't feel like my future.

My expression gentles, and I put my hand on his knee. "Or not me?"

Simon scoots his chair closer and I feel an immediate pang of both anxiety and concern, worried I've upset him and worried about his wounded side.

He doesn't seem angry at least, or in too terribly much pain, but that look on his face doesn't make me feel a whole lot better. My shoulders slump again and I know I shouldn't take his hand right now, I shouldn't let myself touch him, but I do it anyway, tucking my thumb against his palm and squeezing.

How do I tell him I want to see one person in particular? One person who isn't him. One person who doesn't want me even though I can't stop thinking about him.

"I don't think I should see anyone right now," I settle on because it doesn't feel like a lie and I don't want him to think it's him that's the problem. "I really, really like you and I think... I think if I wasn't so messed up, I could be better for you." If I wasn't stupid about someone else and someone else wasn't stupid about you," is what I mean but I manage to keep it to myself. Though I still don't think Baz is good enough for him. "You're so nice and interesting and a great kisser and I still really want to be friends. Do you think we can be?"

Edited 2015-12-24 21:22 (UTC)

It's the choice I should make. I've been worried about putting him in danger, and I have, over mistletoe. I shouldn't be with anyone, not until I manage to get this chosen one's mantle off my chest. It's just...a lot nicer, knowing there's someone who cares about you. Especially when you're never sure how much time you have.

The way he talks, it seems Bitty will still care, even if he won't want to kiss me anymore. "'Course," I say, squeezing his hand. I hate that he feels messed up. I hate that he seems so unhappy. "Is it the things you went through before me?" I ask, knowing that he still searches the shadows for things that aren't there. "With those things attacking you and Derek?"

My eyes widen, and I remember how much he used to speak of him. "Or is it Derek?"

Goodness, he's being so nice, even after all this. I feel stupid suddenly for worrying so much; I should've known he'd be understanding. It's not like I'm breaking his heart or anything.

And then he says Derek's name and I can actually feel the blood drain from my face. God, I'm so obvious.

I let go of him to hide my face in my hands, my elbows resting on the table as I crumple forward. I want to cry. But I won't. Not here. Not right now. Instead I scrub my hands against my cheeks before meeting Simon's eyes again. "I'm so sorry. I thought... It's not. He doesn't see me that way, he probably won't ever see me that way even if sometimes I get these foolish notions that he just might and I swear I didn't think I was seeing you just get over him, but I think... I think maybe I did and didn't realize it. And you don't deserve that, Simon. You don't deserve anything but the very best. I mean, look at you! Look how nice you're being!"

"You're easy to be nice to, Bitty," I tell him, and there's a lump in my throat as I realise that it's really over, but my lonely heart hurts for more than me. His cheeks are so pink, and I give in to the urge to give him a hug, though it's a careful one due to the stitches in my side.

"I know you wouldn't do anything cruel on purpose," I say when I pull back. "That's why I've always liked you so much." I smile at him, and I'm sad, but I mean it when I say, "Really kind people like you don't come along that often."

Simon wraps his arms around me in a warm hug and I suddenly don't know if I'm doing the right thing after all. How is it he's the one comforting me right now? Why can't my stupid heart be so tied up over someone I won't ever have when there's this perfectly kind, wonderful, amazing, and cute boy right here?

He looks so sad when he pulls back and, again, I know I shouldn't, but I reach up to cup his face, brushing my thumb across his cheek. "You're the kind one," I tell him. My lips tug into a smile then despite the continual ache in my chest. "I'm pretty happy that you were my first real kiss."

I laugh, and it loosens my chest enough that I can nod and meet his eyes. "Me, too," I say, because it's rather nice to be his first if I can't be more. "And I'm glad you taught me to skate. I'm glad you wanted to go out at all."

Agatha had been a blessing, but I'm starting to realise just how much she was a shield, too. The way the other students at Watford had looked at me as the years went on, if she hadn't had me, it's possible no one would have. "It's been really nice just to be a boy, and not the Chosen One."

Something in his laugh helps me breathe again and my smile immediately feels more genuine as I drop my hand to rest it over his again, squeezing lightly.

"Well, if it helps, even if we aren't dating anymore or only sort of dating, you're always gonna be Simon Snow, the cute boy who liked me enough to kiss me once. And hopefully... hopefully the cute boy who kissed me once and still wants to be my friend."

"Of course I do," I tell him, finding humor from somewhere, "Where else am I going to find sour cherry jam in Darrow?" I let myself reach up and brush my fingers through his hair, arranging it rather pointlessly, but I want a last proper touch. "I can't believe I only kissed you once. It's no wonder you're ending things," I say with a faint grin.

He reaches up to touch my hair and it's such a simple gesture, but it makes my chest clench all over again. This boy, this sweet, kind, cute boy is touching me so casually and I'm dumb enough to let him go.

"It's really not you," I tell him even though I know he's teasing and even though I know it's the most cliched line in the world. But it's true and he needs to know. Slowly, I lean in toward him, my gaze dropping to his lips briefly as I smile. "But I really wouldn't mind one less kiss. If that's okay?"

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a christmas dinner [dated 12/23/2015]

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