Work Text:
Baz
“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow. I don't think we should be going there. There are still many things you have to do by today,” I said while frantically flipping through the planner to prove my point. I'm trying my best to keep the irritation from my voice but at this point, I know I'm not doing that great of a job.
See if my life was a movie, this is the moment where it freeze frames and I go, “ You may be wondering how I ended up like this. Sitting in the passenger seat of my boss's son's car, grasping tightly onto the handhold, knuckles already turning white from the effort, all the while trying keep said son on schedule.” Well this is how the unfortunate tale begun...
My father has been pressuring me to work in his office for my internship. One thing led to another and he pissed me off. So in a fit of rage, regretfully, I decided to work at Watford inc., the company which belongs to none other than the biggest business rival of Pitch & Partners.
I hate it but god forbid I tell my father about it. He would be jumping with joy. ( I suppose it will actually be good for him. Finally learning to express his feelings even if it was to gloat about my misery.)
With my qualifications, I obviously expected to be at least a director of one of the many departments. (Some may say it's arrogance but I choose to think it's confidence) So there is no other explanation except that my boss is the biggest asshole on earth, that I end up as a secretary. Of Simon Snow. His son.
In short, he hired a glorified babysitter.
So I know you can feel me when I say my life is an absolute shit hole.
Don't get me wrong. It isn't hard to work with Simon Snow. If you don't consider running around after him being tiring. Or listening to his obnoxious music in the car. Or cleaning after him. God, I feel like I'm looking after a puppy or toddler sometimes.
To be honest, as much of a mess he is, Simon Snow has got to be the most beautiful mess I've ever met. His freckles standing out on that tawny skin of his like stars. It's like God decided that there weren't enough stars in the sky and he'd make his very own walking galaxy. It's amazing how unfair the higher powers are sometimes. It's illegal how perfect Simon Snow looks, as if God himself had decided to carve him by hand. In simpler terms, Simon Snow is very easy on the eye. Too bad, I'm too fucking tired of running after him to actually think about it. ( Okay, I admit I do think about it sometimes.)
So now back to the present.
Currently, Snow has to be at a meeting with a client with his father.
Obviously he has other plans. Like going to a fucking carnival.
Thank you, Simon Snow for getting me unemployed.
“Mr. Snow,” I sigh heavily, reaching my hand out to turn down the stereo that is currently blasting that god awful music that he loves. Without moving his gaze from the road, he slaps my hand away before I can turn the volume down. “ Mr. Snow-,” I start again before I am, unsurprisingly, interrupted again.
“ Simon.”
“ Pardon ?”
“ Call me Simon.”
I ignore him.
“ Mr. Snow, as much as I would love to go to the carnival, I do hope you realize that my internship here is at stake because of you.”
“Bazzy, besides the fact that companies are literally lining up to make you their chairman, I know that you're the heir of Pitch & Partners so I know for a fact that you will definitely not become jobless, regardless of this internship.”
I tsked, pissed that he called me 'Bazzy'.
He decided I needed a pet name to make me and I quote, “more lovable”. As if a disgusting nickname like that can make me more lovable. It sends shudders through me just thinking about it.
I have to physically hold myself back from wringing his neck and by the way he is staring so deliberately on the road, I know he feels my glare searing him.
“Mr.-”
“Why ?-”
We start at the same time.
Being the gentleman I am, I decide to let him go first.
“Why what ?”
“Why aren't you at Pitch & Partners ?”
I sneer at him. As if I will tell him it's because of a petty fight. “What ? Do you want to work there ? Heirs of rival companies working for said rival company. Sensational, really,” I answered dryly.
He shifts his gaze to mine.
I tsked again, showing my disapproval. “Eyes on the road.”
And I swear I hear him roll his eyes. When it seems as if he had finally dropped the topic, I start again. “Mr. Snow, as much as I appreciate your confidence in me finding a job, there is the issue that I'm not used to being a disappointment, unlike you, so as much as I hate your father, I want to get my job done. Understand ? Now please drive to the address I've sent you earlier.”
He turns to look at me with something in his eyes as if I had hurt him but he doesn't answer me so I assume that he finally changed his mind and ease back into the seat as much as one can while fearing for their life with Simon Snow behind the wheel.
Simon
When I killed the engine of the car, I turn towards Baz. Only to see him stare at his phone in confusion. He looks at me in confusion. It's adorable.
“Mr. Snow, I don't think this is the place.”
I bristle inwardly when I hear him address me again as Mr. Snow. Will it kill him to call me Simon once ?
I don't bother gracing him with an answer, already opening the car door.
I step out of the car, turning back and finding Baz still sitting in the car, staring at me dubiously.
“ Hurry up Mr. Pitch,” I make an exaggerated motion of checking my watch. After a moment, he climbs out of the car huffing.
I lead the way and when we finally stop, I feel his murderous glare piercing me. It burns and I am convinced he practices that look in front of the mirror. There is no other reason for why his gaze manages to convey the hell he is obviously and currently wishing onto me. I am incredibly thankful that there is a crowd or Baz would have, no doubt, murdered me. I turn my most dazzling smile on him, but it does nothing to him. I do however spot a light dusting of pink on his cheeks but I'm sure it's just the warm weather.
Just as he was about to reach for me, his phone rings. He looks at the phone and directs me one of the glares I get the most often. When I skip my schedule.
“Hello, sir. No, sir. I'm sorry, sir. Yes, I'll pass him the phone,” he passes the phone to me with a sneer.
I accept the phone and I can already hear my father's booming voice screaming for an explanation.
Not waiting for him to finish, I interrupted, “ I'm not going,” before hanging up and handing the phone back to Baz.
I look at him hopefully.
“Well, since we're here, we might as well go since I recall you saying that you'd love to go to one.”
“Sarcasm, Snow. It was sarcasm,” he answers dryly with a look of disgust.
Damn, Snow. I don't know if this is a progress or not.
“I know,” I reply while dragging him towards the gate of the carnival.
Baz
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Because of Simon Snow, I had to call my boss 'sir' and apologise to him. Disgusting.
Like I said, Simon Snow is like a puppy. He's running around the carnival. Whenever I turn back to look for him, he has a new food item in his hand. So far he has finished two cotton candy, one of which was originally for me but it looks absolutely disgusting so he ate both, a hotdog, popcorn and one rainbow doughnut, whatever that is supposed to be. At this very moment he is shoving a pretzel into his mouth while we walk around the carnival grounds.
“Mr. Snow, I think we should leave now. We aren't exactly blending in.”
I gesture at our business suit and at the rest of the people milling about the carnival.
“You're right. Okay, wait right here. I'll be back in a while.”
He disappears before I can stop him.
While waiting for him, I start scrolling through my emails. Damn, there's a shit ton of things to do. I move to look for Snow before I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I turn to see Snow wearing one of those ridiculous bunny ears they sell here. My gaze shifts to his hands, where a second pair lies.
“No. Absolutely not,” I start to turn from him but he blocks my way before I could even lift my feet.
“Please. Please. Please, Baz,” he turns those god damned puppy eyes on me. I'm lost in his eyes. They aren't sky blue or ocean blue. They aren't cornflower blue or sapphire blue. They are so extremely ordinary that they become extraordinary. I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into his eyes. But I pull myself back when I realise I've been staring.
He raises his eyebrow, unsuccessfully I must point out, urging me to take it.
I don't know how I ended up on a carousel, with those fucking bunny ears on my head. I'm still thinking about what he said earlier when I accepted them.
“We match.”
It unsettles me and I don't know why.
I am transfixed, watching Simon Snow. He's smiling so widely, his arms spread out wide in front of him as he waves to one of the kids on the ride. He looks so happy and something overcomes me. I feel as if I want to make him happy like that all the time. He turns to me and I immediately shake myself, dispelling this absurd feeling.
He whips up his phone and directs the camera towards me.
“Snow, you better not be taking a photo.”
“I'm not, I'm just checking my emails.”
I glare at him in suspicion but he continues staring at his phone, ignoring my glare so I directed the glare at the camera.
He's definitely taking a photo
Simon
He's right in thinking I'm taking photos. But he's wrong. I wasn't taking a photo. I was taking photos. So many of them.
Baz
When the ride stops, I jump down flawlessly from the wooden horse I was on. After watching me, Simon decides to try the same. Unfortunately, he ends up stumbling off the horse, almost falling right on his face if I hadn't grabbed him in the last minute. And unfortunately for me, the position brings Simon and I face to face when he looks up, so close that I spot another mole at the edge of his eye and I can feel his breath lightly brushing my face. The sharp ring urging everyone off the ride startles the both of us and I immediately release my grip. Snow's face has turned bright red. It's endearing. I shake myself again.
What is wrong with me today ?
Just as we stepped down the ride, it starts drizzling. Snow starts running towards one of the booths but I grab his hand, pulling him towards the car. When we scramble into the car, we were slightly drenched.
“Why'd you pull me to the car ?”
“I don't want to stay there anymore,” I gesture towards the planner while scrolling through my emails.
I hear Simon sigh beside me but he starts the car.
I'm just crossing my fingers that the next item on the schedule will be less draining.
Simon
He's still wearing those bunny ears. I don't think he remembers them.