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Follow Your Arrow

Summary:

Dev is up to some mischief. When he finds a spell that takes "truth or dare" to magickal levels, the Watford class shares a few moments of intimacy and peace away from the conflict. And Simon learns a truth about Baz that makes him rethink some things.

Notes:

Title from the song of the same name by Kacey Musgraves. I think it fits the vibes! Thanks for stopping by :)

Work Text:

Eighth Year. I'm fresh out of the coffin, though I wish I wasn't. I wish I was joking. Dev and Niall manage to keep it together in public, but once I'm out of the dining hall Dev grabs my wrist, eyes wide.

"Come to our room tonight? We're having a little gathering. You know, since we won't be in school much longer."

I'm so tired. "Sorry, lads. Got work to do."

Niall smiles wryly. "He's making me go too. Not like I've much of a choice."

"And we missed you," Dev adds:

It's a rare display of emotion for him. I'm used to playful nudges and devious schemes.

My heart melts a little. It's still thawing from the cold.

I turn away without answering, but they know they've won.

"What are you doing here?"

Snow meets my eyes from across the circle. His face is all scrunched like I'm the one who committed some egregious offense. "You're up to something," he snarls.

At a slightly illegal party? Whatever put such a thing in his head?

Penny has managed to sneak Agatha through the wards. Dev invited her, and Penny was obviously going wherever Simon goes. Rhys and Gareth linger somewhere in the middle. It really is a disaster in the making.

I send a betrayed look to Niall. He widens his eyes and shakes his head. I frown at him. He's definitely a culprit in all this, no matter how innocent he pretends to be.

Simon's smiling like a diplomat, chatting with Rhys. Gareth's pulling out smuggled wine bottles.

I go to leave but stop at Niall's pleading look. He seems distressed, and Dev's grinning like he's got a secret up his sleeve. Not a good combo.

"Right!" Dev says over the already-quiet crowd. I catch Penny rolling her eyes. "So I've just found this spell. It's deliciously off-limits but the Normals seem to love the game it's based on."

Oh dear, what next? Capture the flag with hellhounds? Simon would have a field day at that, I wager.

Dev spreads his hands with great fanfare and crows, "Truth or dare!"

"Great snakes, Grimm, are we seven?" says Penny.

"I think it could be fun," Agatha says softly.

Simon's looking around like he's waiting for something to jump out at him.

"I'll set the parameters if Dev won't," Niall says. "It's illegal because it compels the subject to do whatever it is that's being asked. So no maiming, no non-consensual acts whatsoever, no eating of poisonous objects, and absolutely no shaming."

"Aww, that's my favorite activity," Gareth says, already tipping back a bottle.

"Are there any poisonous objects around?" Rhys asks mildly.

Niall steadfastly ignores them. "You can always forfeit. Nobody'll judge you."

"I might."

Niall rolls his eyes at Dev. "He won't."

I wince through my headache, but I'm not an awful enough friend to leave Niall. And besides, I'd like to learn a thing or two about Simon.

Simon seems to have the same idea. He's grinning in my direction—though not at me. My heart gives a little swoop all the same.

Dev lifts his wand, smiles cheekily, and casts the spell.

"Hmmm, let's see… Agatha."

"Uh-oh," she drawls.

"Let's start easy, shall we?"

"You're supposed to let me pick—"

"Who are you really in love with?" He sounds oddly hopeful.

Agatha pauses. I can almost see the magic working through her, the words building on her tongue. She presses her lips firm, flicks a look at Simon, at the door…

Then relaxes. "No one," she says softly, calmly. "I've never been in love."

Dev gapes. Simon looks wrecked.

She looks up at him with sad, soft eyes. "It's not your fault, Simon," she whispers. "I don't know if I'll ever love anyone."

Penny wraps her arms around him and he sinks against her.

I feel awful for both of them. It's like the veneer has been sloughed off and we're seeing the actors behind the roles, the cruel reality of backstage.

I should be happy. But honestly, beneath the jealousy and the hurt, I really hate seeing either of them so shaken.

Agatha never asked for this. Neither did he.

"Okayyyy," Dev says. "Your turn, Aggie."

"Don't call me that," she mumbles. "Only Simon can call me that. And, um…" She scans the group. There isn't much to choose from. "Rhys. Truth or dare?"

"Truth." Rhys taps his fingers nervously against his knees.

"What's something you've been meaning to get off your chest?"

"I hate Mr. Minos," he says flatly. "He always pushes my chair without asking and talks to me like I'm five."

Everyone goes quiet. Gareth looks affronted, but Rhys just shakes his head. "I just keep thinking I should say something to him but I don't want him to think—"

"Who cares what he thinks?" Penny says.

"It's all right if you can't tell him no," Agatha says gently. "Just know it's not right for him to treat you that way, well-intentioned or not."

Rhys smiles. Nods. A little weight seems to lift from his shoulders.

"Dev. Truth or dare."

"Me already?" Dev's grinning like a madman. "Dare."

Rhys hesitates, then smiles. "You can always say no—"

"Oh I am never saying that."

"I dare you to kiss someone in this room."

Dev swivels like a marionette, still smiling. "Easy." He reaches for Niall.

Niall shies back from Dev's touch. I would too—Dev's got his arms flung wide and his lips puckered. His enthusiasm is almost intimidating.

"Me?" Niall's voice is small.

"Why not?"

"But… Dev." And Crowley, the way he says Dev's name. I've no idea how I missed it before.

Dev deflates. "Sorry, Ni, I didn't think…"

Niall just keeps looking at him. "You never do." It's both fond and pained.

Dev takes a breath, firms his jaw, softens his gaze, and lifts his head. "Niall Kelly, can I kiss you?"

Niall's eyes slip closed. He tilts his head up, like he's drinking Dev in, and nods.

It's really disgustingly sweet. Dev handles Niall gently like he's never handled anything else before. He usually moves with thoughtless speed and rough words; but he's soft with Niall, who's currently as light as quicksilver, melting at Dev's touch. His cheeks shine and Dev's hands cradle his face and I think Simon catches my smile before I can smother it.

It's all I can do not to swoon.

Still, my selfish heart gives a soft little pang. A wistful, bitter, locked-away sort of feeling. I'm there and I'm not there; I'm remote, I'm shapeless.

Dev pulls away, but only to hold Niall close. "Beautiful," he whispers. I'm not meant to hear it but I do because I'm not—

"Bazzy," Dev says. I gag. "What's your biggest fear?"

"You didn't ask—" My voice is cut off by the spell. It makes me want to be seen. To say some secret part of me and to have someone look up and nod and say, 'yes, I know how you feel.'

And even though I know there's no chance anyone would feel that way, much less say it, the answer worms up my throat and sits behind my teeth, eager and wanting.

And suddenly I want to let go. It's entirely apart from the spell, some new untapped well of exhaustion that makes me question what all this has been for. The hiding, the snide remarks. The loneliness.

"I'm afraid that I'll get lost and nobody will care enough to find me." I say it casual-like, light, downplaying the way it makes my chest blossom with hurt. Turning raw into ridiculous.

Simon looks at me wide-eyed. Penny sucks in a breath. Niall's already reaching out his arms.

I dodge all of them. It's not a big deal if I don't make it into one.

In fact, what am I still doing here? What do I care for Simon's unrequited love confession to Agatha or his attempt to eat seven scones at once—alright, that would be something—or his saccharine golden-boy pity?

(I want it. Not the pity, the sweetness. The wide-eyed concern. The belonging of it all.)

(I want Simon to look at me and say, 'This is one of mine.')

(He takes care of his own.)

I stand up carefully—can't have my leg giving out on me again—and walk as casually as possible, past Dev's entreating gaze and Simon's brewing confusion, toss a "have a good night, lads" to Dev and Niall, and close the door behind me.

I make it all the way back to our room. His restraint surprises me. I know it's not a matter of if, but when he'll come after me with a million questions and a clenched jaw.

I'm too tired for any of it.

I lay down on my bed fully-clothed, feeling oddly unconcerned with it all. I can't even close my eyes; I'm looking up at the ceiling and my mind's going numb, which I know should be alarming. It's not like me. Snow will see.

But I honestly don't care.

Innumerable minutes pass before the door slips open, surprisingly quietly. Simon takes a breath when he sees me. I hear the soft rush of fabric, then a gentle weight against my body. Simon's clumsy fingers reach to tuck the blanket under my chin, and I flinch despite myself.

"Snow!" I snarl.

"Baz!" he shrieks right back. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was."

Mildly dissociating, sleeping. Who has the time to dwell on the technicalities?

"I—I just—"

He breaks off as if expecting me to cut him off. I usually do.

"Hey Baz?"

"What, Snow."

"You didn't have to say that. They shouldn't have made you."

"No one can make me do anything. I wanted to."

"Oh. Then I was just—I was going to tell you—"

"Snow…"

He's kneeling next to me. Looking at me gently, so gently. It stops me right in my tracks. Makes me melt just like Niall.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry something happened to you."

My throat closes up.

"I should've found you. If I'd known you were lost, I would have."

"Touching," I choke out.

He sighs. "You're so impossible. Like talking to a brick wall."

"Oh please, I'd be made of something more attractive than brick."

"You would be." He smiles, then freezes. "Wait—I think I'm still under that dumb spell. What option even is there besides brick?"

The spell can't take effect unless certain words are spoken. I would know. I peeked while Dev was busy.

He takes one look at my face—likely curled into a smirk—and shakes his head. "Never mind. Just thought you should know."

I do know. It surprises me with how much I do.

"Goodnight, Baz."

He hasn't said goodnight to me since I sneered at him in first year—definitely one of my greatest regrets. I'm going to replay the soft dip of his voice until it's worn through like an old tape.

"N-night."

"Did you just—"

"No I did not."

"You did." Simon practically tap-dances through the room.

"Simon."

"Okay, okay. Just… if you ever get lost again, I—" His voice breaks off.

He doesn't have to say it. As unbelievable as it is, I know what he's trying to say.

I know.

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