Snowbaz Oneshots

A Whisper That Sits Waiting

Happy pride month!!! Hope everyone is having a wonderful one!!!

This takes place when Baz and Simon are adults, and they eventually have a 13-year-old kid. Baz teaches at Watford and they have a house near there (🥺). Baz lives at home all week, and their kid lives at Watford during the 5-day week to get the ExperienceTM.

Read as you see fit here- warnings for accidental/unknown misgendering/deadnaming and a tiny bit of angst. Happy ending guaranteed!

Title is from the back jacket of Pageboy by Elliot Page. The full portion: "Even in my lowest moments, a piece of me, ever so small, becomes clearer and clearer. An opening, fragile and elusive. Instantly, it comes flooding in. It's fleeting. Seize it. A whisper that sits waiting. Close your eyes and step through."

Fall 2027

Baz

A week after we got the good news, things started to come in the mail.

Simon had said that I was too overzealous with the purchases, buying every little thing we might need—despite knowing next to nothing except for the fact that the surrogacy paperwork had gone through. But he'd fallen down the Amazon rabbit hole fairly quickly, too. He was the reason we ended up with a dozen stuffed animals in our joint account's cart, and I think he'd already named them all by the time each one came to the house.

Every evening that I stepped foot on the front porch, there was another brown box waiting on the wood panelling. Simon's never home by the time I am, since the school day ends so early and we live so close to Watford. So I was usually left to lug the boxes into the foyer myself, pretending to be annoyed and grinning like mad and resisting the urge to rip the tape off before Simon arrived.

On day number four, the biggest box yet found its way into our house: the box with the crib inside.

Simon and I got it into the nursery, which was, at that moment, a hopeful sort of barren. He took one look at the basic instructions printed on the side of the box and sighed.

"I think this one's on you."

"What?" I squawked. "Why?"

"It looks intimidating," he pouted. "You're the one with the vampire strength."

"You're the one with the construction experience."

"Roads and cribs are not the same thing." I kept glaring at him, playfully, until he pulled me out of my crouching position and into a side-hug. "Please? Give it a try tomorrow morning, since it's a Saturday," he continued. "I'll be home by the afternoon and I promise to help if it beats you."

"I'll not lose to a plastic contraption with a dove painted on," I argued. Simon, having—for the time being—gotten out of crib-assembling duty, was a good sport and brought me tea. That was that for the night. We had dinner and cleaned up dinner and cuddled in bed, and then I saw him off to a meeting the next morning.

Which brings us to now.

In which I am losing to a plastic contraption with a dove painted on.

Merlin help me, it makes no sense! This company seems to have made up their own system of bolts, because none of them fit our screwdriver, but I can't find the special screwdriver that's supposedly within the box. Every time I get two pieces propped up parallel to each other, they collapse before I can connect them, and where are they even supposed to be connected? This booklet could be written in full Russian for as much as I understand it.

A place for everything and everything in its place just sends all the components back into the box, where I then have to re-wrangle them out and onto the floor. I'm too overwhelmed to think of a better spell, even though it should be second nature.