Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

Maybe We Can Be Broken Together

Otp Prompt #18: Simon comforts Baz when he has a nightmare

I wake up to screaming. The sound pierces the silent night, and it's an inhuman sound. I launch myself out of bed, looking for the source of the sound, summoning my sword. I whip my head around to see Baz covered in sweat with tears soaking his face. (I can see the glistening on his skin because of the moonlight). He's thrashing around and swinging his arms every which way.

His face contorts into one of heartbreak and pain as he yells, "No! NO! Mum! Don't go!" He's yelling at the top of his lungs, and it's a wonder that no one has come up to complain. I rush over to his bed, trying to think of what to do, but he starts to calm down. His chin is quivering, and he lets out a heartbreaking whimper. "Mum... please don't leave me," The tears are falling more steadily now, and somehow this is worse than the screaming was.

"Baz," I gently (which is a first) shake his arm, but he doesn't wake up- instead, he lets out another quiet gasp that sounds like a name. "Simon..." His cheeks are full and I can only assume that it's his fangs filling his mouth in an automatic response to his nightmare. I want to ask him why he said my name... (now is not the time, Snow). "Baz!" I say louder this time, bringing one hand up to his face and the other to grab at his hand. I add 'the way Baz's hand feels in mine' to the list of things I shouldn't be thinking about right now (or ever).

His eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright in bed, taking in heaping gasps of air. He looks around quickly as he swipes at the tears under his eyes. He looks at me like he's confused about something. (Baz is hardly ever confused- usually that's me). "S-Simon?" He stutters (which is a first) as he looks me up and down, tears welling in his eyes again. (I apparently also have to add 'the way he says my name' to my list of things not to think about) (I've never heard him say it before). He still looks scared and confused, so I grab his hand again. And by some external force of nature, he lets me. I lace my fingers through his and he takes deeper, slower breaths.

"What happened?" He asks me. (I feel like I should be asking him the same thing- he must be really out of it if he's letting me hold his hand).

"I woke up and you were screaming. I came over to your bed and you were having a nightmare..." I trail off for a second, letting him take it in. "Something about your mum," I try not to let the concern be too evident on my face (although I know it is anyway) as he processes, eyes welling up again. "What... what happened, Baz?" He shakes his head and starts crying again, softer this time. I don't let go of his hand as I move to sit up next to him on his bed. I've never seen Baz like this- so vulnerable. He would never let himself cry in front of me if he was in his right mind. Then again, maybe he's not in his right mind.

"It's alright, Snow. I don't need your bloody pity." He spits (or at least tries to- it falls flat) and rips his hand out of mine, looking away. I try to ignore the way my heart aches when he goes back to saying 'Snow' with venom in his voice.

"Crowley, I don't have pity, Baz. I- I care. Just tell me." I put a comforting (I think it's comforting. It's meant to be, anyway) hand on his shoulder as he looks over at me. He looks at me like he's trying to decide whether I'm serious or not (I am), and if I'll use it against him (I won't- I would never).

He takes in a shaky breath as he begins. "It was my mum. I was back at the nursery and the vampires came all over again and I..." His voice hitches, so I grab his hand again. Although he seems hesitant, he lets me, and continues. "I couldn't save her. Just like I couldn't save her all those years ago." He looks down at his hands (and my hand that's holding one of his), and before a tear can fall again, I move my hand from his shoulder to his face, wiping the tear away. (I don't know why I do it).

"Oh Baz. It's not your fault," He looks up at me, and with the moonlight streaming in from the windows, I can see how broken he is. His blue-grey eyes hold so much loss in them. I've never seen him like this, and it throws me for a second. Here I am, on my arch-enemy's bed, holding his hand and comforting him after a nightmare. I have nightmares too. Maybe we're not so different- maybe we're just two boys that were thrown into a war we didn't want. Maybe we're both plagued by nightmares and being used like puppets in a war we never asked for, and pitted against each other when we didn't know any better.

"It is my fault, Snow. It's always my fault," He sniffles and I just want him to stop. I want him to feel safe and happy, and I want him to know that nothing is his fault. (Well maybe not nothing- Phillipa's voice is gone because of him. I'm sure of it). He just got dealt the wrong cards early in life.

"Baz..." I reach up and put a hand on his cheek, turning him to face me. One look into his eyes, and I don't feel the hatred I usually do when I look at him. I find no malice on his face, either. "Was there anything else in your nightmare?" I hold his stare for a moment, wanting him to tell me about why he said my name. And why he sounded so worried when he did.

He thinks for a second (a second too long for my liking) before deciding to tell me. "Yes. After my mum died, everything changed. Like a new scene or something," He shakes his head, and his face contorts into a look of pain, lip quivering. (I didn't know Baz could quiver. He's always seemed so perfect. "And you died, Snow." I'm not surprised that he dreamt of me dying. But I am surprised that he seems to be so broken up about it.

I stay silent for a beat before asking, "Don't you want me dead?" He lets out a humourless laugh and looks away from me. Now I'm the one that's confused.

"No, you dolt. I guess I don't," I stare at him dumbfounded. He doesn't want me dead. "And when you died... I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry, Simon." He chokes up again, tears falling freely. Sorry? What's he sorry for? I gather him into my arms and let him cry on me. I slept without a shirt, so he's just crying on my bare shoulder, but I can't find it in myself to care. Right now, all I care about is Baz. (Two hours ago I would've said I cared about everything except Baz; now I'm not so sure). He falls against me gratefully and I hold him, my arms a steel band around his back. We're hugging now, and all I want is for him to stay like this, with me, forever. (I don't think too hard about why that is).

He feels so weak. He's stopped crying now, but neither of us make a move to get up. Crowley, I don't want to get up. I just want him here in my arms where I can make sure that he's okay. (I don't know if he's ever be really okay, but I can make bloody sure that he's as okay as he can get). I want him to stop thinking it's his fault. Sure, I've said everything is his fault loads of times... but I'm not quite sure that I ever really meant it.

"Hey, Baz?" He pulls away quickly, and instead of seeing the vulnerable face I did just minutes ago, he's guarded again. His face holds no sign of the love (was it love? Aleister Crowley, what is going on?) that was there before, and it is instead replaced by an angry, slightly broken one.
"Sorry Simon," He looks away from me. "I didn't mean to- sorry." He holds none of the composure that he usually does, tumbling over his words as he tries to push me off of his bed. But there's no fucking way I'm getting off.

"Baz-" He rolls his eyes and tries shoving me off again, so I grab his wrists and gently push him against the wall at the top of his bed. "Baz," He stops fighting, but he won't meet my eyes, so I turn him to face me for the second time tonight. "It's okay. You can stop fighting."

He rolls his eyes and sneers at me (or at least he tries to) before scoffing and saying, "Snow, I-" I don't think about what I need to do now. Here he is, in front of me, vulnerable (broken), with his cheekbones and his guilt and calling me Snow even though he called me Simon before.

I lunge forward and press my lips to his. I feel him tense underneath me, and for a moment I think I've done the wrong thing until I feel his whole body sigh underneath me. His quiet gasp melts into a sigh as he kisses me back and I'm kissing a bloke and my enemy and nothing has ever felt so magickal. We stay like this for a long time. Here I am, Simon Snow, kissing my completely broken rival. Maybe I'm broken, too.

Maybe we can be broken together.