A/N: This is dedicated to @NoNamedWriter42 without you being so supportive of my other stories I probably wouldn't have posted this. So thank you, thank you!

Simon-

The cherry-wood stands of the football pitch are cold with the incoming breeze.

    Penny left me about an hour ago. She thinks I'm wasting my time with "obsessive behaviour". I think she underestimates how dangerous Baz is. He's a Grimm-Pitch! They practically breed evil!

    My gaze follows Baz as he viciously slide tackles an opposing player. His hair is swept up in a knot. It shows off his widow's peak.

His blue jersey is a bright contrast to his pale skin. I'm freezing in my mittens and overcoat but Baz doesn't show any signs of the cold in his sleeveless uni and shorts.

Coach Mac blows the whistle and calls the practice to an end. Baz's gaze shifts to me and I freeze. After eight seconds (I tick each one off in my head) he turns away, grabbing his water, presumably heading towards the shower. He always showers directly after practice and comes back smelling of bergamont.

Baz-

    Snow thinks I don't notice him in the stands watching every practice. Snow's an idiot.

    He's been at every single one without fail since February of third year. There he was as usual, in his red beany and white scarf.

    Wellbelove must've gotten them for him, there's no way he could afford them for himself and I can't see the Mage browsing in the scarf section.

    Snow follows me around like a dog on a very short leash, but as of late he's been following me a lot more closely. Now it's especially hard to feed in the catacombs with him on my tail. I'm half shocked he didn't try and follow me into the shower... I wouldn't mind if he did.

Simon-

    When I get back to the room Baz is already there. He's standing in the center of our room, still in his uni.

    His skin is tacky with sweat, his hair still pulled back.

Normally he would take about twenty minutes to come back, showered and dressed.

    "Baz?"

    He rolls his eyes.

    "What are you doing here?"

    He snorts, "In case it might have slipped you enormous head I happen to live here too."

    I glare at him.

    He drops his smirk, "Snow the following has gotten more obsessive lately. Is there something you want to say?"

    "Fuck off Baz,"

    "No," he smirks now that he's rawling me up. "You seem to have so much time on your hands lately." He steps closer to me, so now I can see the grass stains smudged along his knees, "How's Wellbelove doing?"

    "Fuck off Baz."

    He snorts, "Is that all you can say? Use your words Snow."

    I lunge at him. Grabbing the collar of his jersey and pushing him against the wall. His twisted smile never cracks.

    "Anthema," he says.

I don't let go of him. "You'll stay away from Agatha."

    "Is that a threat Snow?"

    I lock my gaze with his.

    "Or what?"

    I press my body into his, his smirk drops. He raises an eyebrow. I bring our foreheads together. He's staring at my lips. I nudge him and his gaze lifts to my eyes. His slate grey eyes are hooded.

    I catch his lower lip in mine. He grabs my face and brings me impossibly closer.

Baz-

    Snow grabs me by my hips and I moan into his mouth. He's kissing me possesively. Every kiss screams mine, mine, mine. He can have it. All of it. Me.

Simon-

    I move my lips against his fiercely, but Baz is just as fast. His hands are in my hair, pulling, twisting. It feels so good. He feels good. Baz.

    I pull away.

    "Simon?" Baz is breathy.

    "You called me Simon."

    He rolls his eyes.

    "Not that intimidating of a threat."

    I bring my right hand up to his face and rest it on his cheek bone. Baz pulls my head forward so that our foreheads are touching again.

    We close our eyes.

    "I like this better," I say. And I do, this is better than fighting.