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Baz
A cane.
Baz looked at the thing, resting against the nightstand.
He didn't need a cane.
He had been on the Watford football team! He had been good at it! He was a vampire. And one of the only good things about that was the healing.
So why didn't his body heal this?
Dr. Wellbelove said it has something to do with it healing wrong when he got it.
Couldn't it heal right now? He wasn't trapped in that stupid coffin anymore, it should have sorted itself out.
He only went to have it looked at because Simon had all but begged him too. Even Bunce had told him it was the best course of action.
He hadn't expected this.
He felt hot tears fill his eyes.
It was a stupid thing to cry over. But that didn't stop his equally stupid body.
He tried to keep it quiet, Simon would be back from his flight at any moment. And if he heard Baz crying he would absolutely get involved. And he couldn't bring himself to face him.
At the very least it could have the decency to have any sort of magickal solution. A spell to cast on it each morning, or during a "flare up". But Dr. Wellbelove had been clear.
"There isn't anything I can do anymore. Its long past healed. And its not like a bone; we can't reset it or anything. The problem is with the muscles.
I can only offer help that any Normal doctor could give you."
And then he prescribed Baz that cursed object.
It looked harmless enough, up again the unpainted wood nightstand. But thinking about using it made him feel sick.
He looked away. Feeling like he lost somehow.
I am not using that thing.
— — —
Simon
Baz said that the appointment went well. He said it should be alright eventually.
He clearly didn't think too hard into that lie.
The kidnapping had been literal years ago. It one hundred percent would've "sorted itself out" by now.
It scared Simon.
They had reached a steady spot in their relationship. They had a flat together. Simon had worked through his own junk to an extent. Baz was drinking more blood for his own well-being. They were able to trust each other. They didn't keep secrets.
But now Baz was lying. And it makes Simon almost sick to think about.
His new therapist said that that feeling was anxiety. Which he apparently had.
(It seemed like he had everything in the book.)
She'd told him that if he got anxious about his relationships that it was best to try and talk things out.
But the thought of calling Baz out, and maybe starting an argument made him nervous all over again.
But maybe he could ease them into it. He wasn't exactly tactful, but trying to be subtle sounded a bit less nerve-racking. He just had to figure out what to say.
— — —
Baz
It happened during dinner. Simon had insisted on making it, saying something it "being relaxing".
It was good. Though, Baz was pretty sure he would eat anything Simon made.
As they made small talk over the table he tried to push out the cane out of his mind. He wasn't going to use it. He wasn't going to tell Simon he was supposed to use it. Otherwise he would make him.
"So… the appointment went well?" Simon ventured.
Baz nodded curtly, "Yes. Might take a bit, but its fine."
Simon frowned, "Are you sure? Its just that by now-"
"Its fine. My leg is fine, Simon. You don't need to worry," he put a hand on top of his, and gave a small smile to reassure him.
He didn't need Snow to push him.
— — —
Simon
Baz didn't offer any details about the appointment. Not even with further prompting. And Simon didn't think it was a good plan to ask around. His goal wasn't to violate his privacy.
And he wasn't a doctor. So a part of him really wanted to believe that Baz was telling the truth. Maybe it really would be fine. Maybe he was worrying about nothing again.
But he saw the limp.
Baz hid it well, he'd had it for years at that point, so he knew how to compensate. But Simon watched him too carefully to miss it.
He noticed how he would massage out the muscles after a day of walking around.
And it didn't seem to get better.
He had to talk to him about taking painkillers too often, something that Baz himself had taught Simon.
It was really starting to get worrying.
He was irritable whenever Simon brought it up, so he didn't mention it often. But he wasn't going to be able to force himself to ignore it forever.
It was like the whole visit to Agatha's dad was for nothing. They were right back where they had started.
It finally got too much when he found Baz crying in their bedroom about three weeks after the appointment, gripping his leg in pain.
He wasn't loud, but Simon had come in to grab a jumper and found his boyfriend sitting on the bed, clearly in agony.
His eyes widened as he came forward, "Baz!"
He rushed forward and joined him on the bed, brows knit together in concern.
"What can I do?" He asked anxiously, eyes flicking up and down from Baz's leg to his pained face.
"Nothing," he gritted out , "it will pass."
"You said that two weeks ago. Hell, you said that years ago, back at Watford. Don't lie to me."
"It will." Baz stated more firmly, "J-just not forever," he admitted, voice wavering.
It wasn't often Baz let himself get upset. He had his own fair few issues, Simon knew all about it by now. But despite it, he forced himself to pretend things were fine. That was, until they got too much.
For it to get this bad, he had to have been sitting on it for quite some time.
"Baz…"
"I know, I know! I should've come talked to you. But you can't fix this! I can't fix this. So let me wallow in misery in peace. Talking about it won't do any good. Unlike you, my problems aren't all in my head."
Simon winced. It had been rough for him as well as Baz. Learning that so many things seemed to be wrong with him. That even without the stuff with the Mage and the Humdrum he was already messed up.
It being all in his head only had made him more frustrated.
None of it was real anyways! How could it be so hard?
And Baz knew that. He knew that that was a sore spot for him. Even after starting to accept it.
But old habits die hard. And apparently Baz was still always ready to get under his skin.
But his reaction caused him to pause.
"Simon- I," he took a deep breath, still gripping his leg hard enough to bruise if he had that much blood in him, "I didn't mean it."
He looked away.
"I know you don't."
"I never did."
"I know."
They sat in painful silence for a moment before Simon could muster the courage to speak again.
"Do you want to talk about it? It won't fix it, but," he shrugged, "it kinda helps?"
Baz managed a strained laugh, "Maybe it helps you."
"Baz. You can't-"
"I know. I can't keep things 'bottled up'. But have you considered that I don't want to talk about it?"
"I know you don't."
"Then why do you keep bringing it up?" He asked, sounding more tired than annoyed.
"You're the one who pushed me to go back to therapy."
"That's different."
"You know talking isn't easy for me. You have to help me get the words out half of the time. But… sometimes that's all you can do, I guess."
Baz glared, but Simon just met his gaze.
"Fine. You want me to talk about it? How's this: I don't want to be disabled. I don't want people to look at me and see that something is wrong with me. Why else did I refuse to eat with my family until I learned to control my fangs?"
Simon didn't say anything, he just hummed and placed his hand's over Baz's, still gripping his bad leg.
"I'm… I'm better than that. I'm a powerful mage! A vampire! I shouldn't struggle to do something as begin as walk."
"It doesn't make you less, Baz."
"Yes it does! They want me to use a cane, Simon!"
"And I take medication for my ADHD, does that make me less to you?"
"No! That's- That's different."
"How?"
"It just is!"
"Baz. If you use a cane, no one will judge you."
"I will, Simon! I will."
"Is this pain worth your pride?"
"Yes! Yes it is. I can't- I can't just-"
"Baz. Please. You couldn't walk at all right now. You're making it worse like this. I hate to see you in so much pain."
"Well apparently you'll have to get used to it! Because I'm not getting better! This is it. For the rest of my life!"
"I get it Baz."
"Do you?"
Simon's flung his hands in the air, wings shooting out behind him, "Yes, Baz! I do! I'm stuck with wings and a tail for the rest of my life! I have panic attacks about nothing because of all the stress I've put up with!
"Circe, Baz! I know this sucks! I can see that! But you're not the only person!
"I just want to help you. Like you helped me.
"I promised I wasn't going to give up, Baz. I promised."
"That was about us."
"It was about you! I promised to never give up on you. So I'm going to keep it. I don't care if you have no leg at all! I just want to help make it better."
"What if you can't?" Baz all but whispered.
"Then I'll love you anyway."
He huffed, "You sound so confident."
"You've never stopped loving me."
"You are a hopeless romantic, Snow."
"Maybe. But does it help that I'm your hopeless romantic?"
Baz shook his head, not gracing him with a response. But a small smile managed to break through his frown.
"Can you let me help?"
Baz sighed, "Fine. But only because it hurts too damn bad."
"Of course."
"Of course."
Simon moved to look at his phone, "I'm going to figure out what I can do right now. Then we're going to talk about what actually happened with Mr. Wellbelove."
"You must enjoy torturing me."
"Well clearly it can't hurt that bad if you're still able to be snarky."
"Please, Snow, I can be snarky under any conditions, thank you very much."
Simon just rolled his eyes absently as he scrolled through the results.
"I could try to massage it?"
"I've done that," Baz stated flatly.
"Well, maybe I'm the superior massage-ist."
"You mean masseuse?"
"That's a stupid word."
"It's French."
"Like I said. Stupid."
— — —
Baz
After some more reading Simon deemed himself adequately prepared, and began.
It hurt at first. Even though he was gentle. But it did seem to help as Simon worked, continuing it be careful and checking in to see how Baz felt. It was sweet. Especially after everything he had said.
"Simon, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've-"
"Not right now, Baz. I'm glad you feel bad, but right now we should talk about your leg instead."
"Fine."
"What… you said it was the kidnapping? How did…"
Baz sighed, "It was when they took me. I struggled, obviously, and I hurt my leg. And being stuck in a crammed box with no food for a month certainly didn't help."
"What did Dr. Wellbelove say?"
Baz sighed, "Nothing helpful. It's permanent, like I said. And… he told me that a cane would help."
"Want me to look into some? We can use your endless wealth to buy a fancy one."
"He gave me one."
"And I haven't seen it?"
"I didn't want you to."
"You're too good at that."
"What?"
"Plotting. You're always plotting."
He laughed, "I am not, thank you very much. That wasn't a 'plot' I just hid it in the closet. Where I know you don't go; considering all of your jumpers everywhere."
"I'm just going to take them back out! There's no point! Putting it on a hanger isn't worth it."
"It keeps me from having to iron it! I have a job outside of taking care of you."
"But you love taking care of me!"
"Haha, sure Snow," Baz deadpanned, "I love babying you and picking up your messes."
Simon laughed and shook his head, "Whatever, Baz."
"I still want to apologize."
Simon said nothing.
"I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry. Its not your fault, I shouldn't act like it is."
"Thank you. I just want to help."
"I know. Thank you."
"Of course."
— — —
One month later
Baz
Simon was never that good at plotting.
It had been that way since school. His approach to being his nemesis was to stalk him, which, he also had never been that good at. Baz was usually aware of where he was; following him around like a lost puppy. And doing petty things to irritate him, like wearing that cross, or keeping the window open.
Baz had always been the plotter.
But Simon was up to something.
A few nights he had come up behind him, to give him his disgusting buttered sandwich, and he'd immediately shut his laptop in shock.
And ever since then he'd been peeking out the window at the postbox.
"You waiting for something?"
"Er, yeah, bough something a bit back and it's not here yet."
"Is it supposed to be?" Baz asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well yeah, the app says so anyways."
"Do you plan to tell me what it is?"
"Oh, you know. Stuff."
His lip quirked up in a smirk, "Simon. You are a terrible liar."
"I didn't lie! All of that is true!"
"Right, of course. But I do feel the need to tell you my birthday is in February, and Christmas isn't till December."
"I know that!"
Baz took a sip of tea, "I sure hope you do, love."
— — —
The next day
Simon
It was perfect. Pulling it out of the package and taking a look, he knew he'd gotten the right thing.
It was a far nicer cane then the one that Mr. Wellbelove had given Baz. It was some kind of dark wood that Simon couldn't remember the name of, with a shiny silver-looking top (he wasn't sure if silver was a problem for Baz, and it wasn't the type of question you can just ask over dinner.)
He just hoped Baz would like it.
He'd been using his cane, much to Simon's relief, but it looked so plain next to Baz; it wasn't him.
He'd told Simon about how, at Watford, the room was really his, unlike the one he grew up in. It was weird to think that they both felt the same way about that room, even while they hated each other (though, it was more complicated then hate most of the time.)
So he wanted his cane to be his as well. He knew that Baz wasn't thrilled with the thing, even though it had clear helped him get around.
He'd been right though, pointing out that it wasn't a holiday, but Penny had suggested not waiting for it. If it was still too sensitive for him then it would make a poor birthday gift. But as a random Tuesday gift? It was perfect.
Simon ushered Baz into the living room, a wide grin on his face, tail mostly straight behind him"Okay, okay, so, I know you sorta caught onto my plan-"
"Your plot you mean?"
"Plan. I'm leaving all the plotting to you, babe," he said with a wink.
"Alright, fine, you plan."
"But! You still don't know what I got you!"
"I suppose not."
"Well! Here it is!" he said, placing the package that he had expertly taped back up in Baz's lap.
Baz rolled his eyes, but smiled as he tore open the box with ease.
When his eyes landed on the cane he went quiet.
"I was hoping that getting one you'd like might help?"
He lifted it out of the box, and held it in his hands, running one of them up and down the length of it, feeling the smooth wood.
"Its nice," he said absently.
"The idea was I would get you one that was so fancy that it looked more like a fashion statement," Simon added nervously.
Baz was quiet still, now inspecting the handle.
— — —
Baz
It really was nice. He wasn't an expert, but he could see the quality. It was certainly better then the plastic-y one he'd gotten a month earlier.
He looked up and found that Simon looked really nervous, "Do you like it?"
Baz stood, taking the cane with him, and standing it on the ground next to him. He pulled Simon into a hug, tight and close.
"Thank you. This was very thoughtful of you."
Simon stepped back, the anxiety dropping off of his face"Good! Good. I was really worried about-"
"Everything?" Baz teased.
Simon laughed rubbing the back of his head, "Yeah, I guess so. I just really wanted you to like it."
"Well, it certainly does make a statement, I look like a proper gentleman with it. Maybe I should get a top hat to match…" He mused.
"I wouldn't complain!" Simon said grinning, placing a hand on Baz's face.
Baz gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you, Simon. This means a lot to me. You talking me into using the first one, and helping me with the flare ups., getting me this… Thank you."
Simon went in for a proper kiss before responding, "After everything you've helped me through this is nothing. I'm just happy that I get to be here for it. For you."
Baz smiled in Simon's arms, "You really are quite the romantic."