worst_greatest_one | (no subject)

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I haven't labored over my clothes like this since Watford.

I don't have much money to spend on them, but I've brought home a nice enough pair of shirts, some trousers, and even some used Oxfords that still look nice. I haven't bought a tie, but I think that might be too much anyway. The truth is, I don't know. Agatha and I just sort of sprang into being as a couple.

I've never been on a date before.

I pull off the blue button-up and put it back on the bed. I forgot the undershirt anyway, but before I reach for it, I grab up the bottle of cologne. It's not bergamot and cedar - those are the only scents I could think of when the woman at the counter asked me, so I asked for something specifically not them. This bottle smells of a really fancy, clean forest, which should go well with the smokey smell that never quite leaves me.

I start to tip the bottle against my neck, then stop. Fuck, I forgot how much I'm meant to use.

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I think I must be depressed. I don't know how else to explain how I've fallen into watching hours of animal documentaries on the Discovery Channel day after day. There's nothing for me here. I looked into buying a violin, but they're far too expensive for the money I have, and I need that for rent and food. So I don't do anything. Except learn facts about animals. (A howler monkey can be heard from three miles away. Fascinating.)

Speaking of loud animals, I can hear Snow banging around his side of the apartment, but I don't pay it much mind until I smell something...perfume-y?

"What's that smell?" I call over, sitting up.

Edited 2015-11-27 00:51 (UTC)

I hear Baz call to me over the sound of his telly. I can't believe how many nature programs he watches. I can't believe how many nature programs there are, and I'm suddenly thankful we didn't have a telly at Mummer's House. Penny would definitely have eclipsed him for top of our class.

"Um," I say, pulling the bottle back to read it. "Encounter."

Sounds like a perfume of some kind. Crowley knows why Snow would want to wear something like that, especially at five at night.

"You've put too much on. It stinks," I snap. I'd spell my nose closed, but my wand is across the room and I don't have it in me to go fetch it.

I scowl, but I don't argue. If he can smell it all the way over there, it's definitely too strong. I curse and walk to the bathroom, wetting a cloth to drag across my throat.

"How much then?" I ask, swiping the cotton against my skin. "They told me how many drops, but I didn't listen."

I sigh and get out of bed, and cross over to Snow's bedroom. I don't see him, but it's easy enough to follow the scent of his cologne to the bathroom. He's standing at the sink with his back is to me. Shirtless. I stop short and look away, like the ceiling is suddenly fascinating.

"It doesn't have a spray cap? Let me see it," I demand, holding a hand out, but still avoiding having to look at him.

"Only the big one had that," I say, handing him the smaller bottle freely. Baz will insult me soon enough, I might as well get some advice from him on how to be posh, first. I turn and lean my hip against the sink.

"This just dribbles it out in bits."

I step forward and take the bottle, glancing up through my lashes at the way Snow's leaning against the sink, then I glare back down at the cologne like it's the cologne's fault Snow looks so good. He's not wearing his cross and it leaves me defenseless.

I don't know why he's chosen to start wearing fragrances, but I can't let him walk around wearing too much because he doesn't know anything.

"Give me your wrist," I say, motioning it forward with my hand.

"Doesn't it go on my neck?" I ask, but then I realise I'm asking a vampire to touch my throat, and I stick my wrist out with all haste.

"How much do you use?" I ask him, wondering why he looks particularly murderous, but it could just be the mention of my neck.

"Subtlety is key, Snow," I say quietly, taking his wrist in hand and pressing the opening of the bottle to his pulse point. I turn his arm over in one quick motion, then right it and pull the bottle away. Without thinking, I look away from the bottle and at him.

"Rub your wrists together, and then touch them to the sides of your neck," I instruct, forcing myself to watch and make sure he does it properly.

Edited 2015-11-27 02:32 (UTC)

I frown, but I do as he says, vigorously rubbing my wrists together, then rubbing them against the sides of my neck. The woodsy scent wafts up, and it smells good, not as strong as before. I grin.

"That is better," I admit, staring at him a moment before I decide to press my luck. "Can you help me with a shirt?"

I hand him back the bottle and make a face.

"Why do you need help with a shirt?" I ask, honestly so baffled that I can hardly produce a decent sneer. Mostly I keep looking at his neck. I'm trying to keep my gaze eye-level, but it's difficult.

"I'm trying to look nice," I say, stepping around him to return to the bed where I've laid out the two shirts. Both are button-ups, one in blue and the other gray, but the blue one looks more formal somehow. It's got pearly buttons.

"Which is better?"

"Why?" I ask, following. Maybe he's been asked to a party with one of those 'great blokes' he met. I try not to feel wounded that I wasn't invited.

We're always in gray at school, and the blue one will match his eyes, so I pick that one up and hand it to him without explanation. "This one. I assume you can put it on yourself, yeah?"

I snort and pull on the undershirt first, then my arms through the blue button-up. "I did like this one better," I admit, starting to button it up.

"I've got a date," I confess, a little giddy despite the fact that I know Baz will mock me for it. At least I got my cologne on properly first.

I watch his movements blankly, feeling the familiar pang of jealousy creep in. I should be used to it. Usually I am, usually I can push it back and ignore it. I can't help that Snow likes girls, and even I can see that Wellbelove is a perfect match for him. It's not like I expected anything, even if they did break up.

"Moving on from your golden Wellbelove so fast?" I ask, but my tone is lacking. He has taken me a bit by surprise. I don't remember him having dressed like this for her even once. (Actually, I don't think he owns a shirt as nice as the one he's wearing now back home.)

I falter when he mentions Agatha, but it doesn't hurt as much to think of her. She might have rejected me, but Bitty hasn't, and I concentrate on that as I finish buttoning my shirt.

"I may as well," I say eventually. "She doesn't want me. She made that clear enough. I..." I frown, warring with myself for a moment. "You should ask her out, if we ever go home." She deserves to be happy, and Baz is who she wants anyway.

Wellbelove is a bigger fool than I thought.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an attempt at a smile. I'd laugh in contempt, but it's too much effort. "I'm never going to want Agatha, Snow," I say quietly, and go over to my dresser to get my wand. "And she doesn't really want me."

I point my wand at his shirt where it's kinked in a few places. "Wrinkle free!"

"All set, then."

Edited 2015-11-27 03:59 (UTC)

I can't help but flinch when he points his wand at me, but a moment later my shirt is smooth, and I actually smile in gratitude. "Thanks," I murmur, turning to look in the mirror. I really do look nicer than I usually look.

"She does," I say, because no one holds onto someone's handkerchief all summer without a serious crush. "Why wouldn't you want her?" I ask, turning back to Baz. "It's not because of her family, is it?"

"She doesn't," I snap, and move back to my side of the room. I hover by the half wall, because it's safer over here with Snow in that damn shirt smelling like a forest, smiling at me.

"Her family would be perfect for me, Snow, please," I say dryly. The Wellbeloves aren't the most powerful mages, but they're wealthy and not overly supportive of the Mage. Father would be thrilled regardless. "She's just not my type. Leave it."

"How?" I can't help but ask, incredulous. Agatha makes the word beautiful seem inadequate. She's... ethereal. "Agatha is everyone's type. And she's really nice when she's not chucking you, I promise."

"I said drop it!" I say, exasperated. Why does Snow always have to be so insistent? He's incredibly stubborn, and sometimes it's just exhausting. "Stop trying to set me up with your ex-girlfriend. I wouldn't date her if she was the last girl on Earth."

"Why not?" I demand, growing indignant on Agatha's behalf. I feel ridiculous, but angry with him, too, for who does Baz think he is? I follow him to his side of the bedroom. "What's wrong with her?"

She's a girl, I could say.

She's not you, I could say.

But I don't, because no matter how heated it gets between us, those are things I'll never tell him.

I bite the inside of my cheek and count to ten in my head. "She's not who I want," I force out with a fake smile. "Okay? Not that it's any of your business. You don't even like me so stop trying to push me at your ex, unless you're looking to get revenge at her for dumping you."

"I wouldn't do that," I insist, and the thought of it is honestly sickening. However upset I am that Agatha chucked me, I'd never want to hurt her. And if I did, I wouldn't start by pushing her into the arms of my sworn enemy.

"Whatever," I say, because I don't want to talk about this anymore. "I'm going to be late to meet Bitty."

"Indeed." I roll my eyes and sit down on the edge of my bed. Obviously Snow hadn't thought his little scenario through.

I push the hair out my eyes and look up at Snow. I can't help but laugh when he says the name of his new girlfriend. "Bitty? Is she a circus clown or something?" I ask with a smirk.

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