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“Simon, can I speak with you?”
Blue eyes set amidst a bay of freckles and moles glanced up and Baz felt his breath catch. “Sí,” the familiar voice replied kindly. “I could use the break.”
Wiping a bronze arm over his brow, Simon set down the wood he had been using to build a new fence for his cows, and he approached the taller man.
“Here,” Baz offered, holding out a piece of sugar cane he’d already cut.
They both sat down in the shade of an icaco tree, and Baz looked out to the horizon for any sign of a cooling storm only to be disappointed. The air was muggy and hot, his shirt already clinging uncomfortably to his figure.
“What’s the matter?” Simon asked before slurping and sucking on the fibrous and woody stalk for its sweet juice.
“Well…Captain Fiona is getting ready to set sail again,” he said softly. Simon’s face fell a little and Baz felt his hopes lift the tiniest bit. “I was thinking about…maybe staying at port until her next run.”
“Yeah?” Simon asked with that soft smile that made Baz’s heart ache.
They hadn’t known each other all that long, really. The Grimm Pitch hadn’t started running contraband through Puerto Rico until a couple of months ago, and that’s when he met Simon Snow. Strong arms, sunbleached hair, and those always smiling lips. Well, almost always.
Simon had a beautiful scowl when he was in a fight, and Baz had to admit that he was thankful to have fought alongside Simon rather than against him. Aguada’s port was seemingly always filled with the tension of pirates and other illegal good runners, a side effect of being on the opposite end of the island to the only Spaniard-sanctioned merchant port. Food and other supplies were always too far away, but thankfully so were the military.
And now came the tricky part. His aunt, the captain, had not been thrilled with his plan but she had been ready to help if needed.
“Simon, I know that we…haven’t exactly known each other long, but I wanted to be honest with you.” Simon tossed away the sugar cane and wiped at his lips before nodding in encouragement. “I…”
And this was the part that killed him. The part that was not entirely honest and yet in his mind completely necessary if there was any chance of something between him and Simon.
“You don’t have to be scared,” Simon stated carefully.
He was looking a bit concerned over Baz struggling with his words. It was a cruel juxtaposition from the usual order of things.
“I’m a g-g-….”
That word didn’t want to spill past his lips, not after he’d spent so long denying it and fighting against his family and society’s expectations. Baz might have been pronounced female when he exited his mother’s womb, but he had never been one.
And now, here he was, taking up that mantle all for…a peek at that handsome face steeled his resolve. There had never been anyone like Simon Snow, someone who took over his mind so completely and played with his heart-strings with each and every breath.
“Look, you-” Simon began before Baz threw caution to the wind and just grabbed his golden hand and shoved it against his unbound chest. “Crowley!” Simon squeaked and Baz felt the shame burn on his cheeks.
The breasts on his chest were small and barely there, something he constantly thanked the lucky stars for, but they were enough for a person to feel when in a position like they were.
He released Simon’s hand and the young man snatched it back as if he expected the young pirate to lop it off. “That’s what I’m trying to say, Simon,” Baz forced out, trying to fight back the tears.
In the end, his father had been right. No one was going to love him like this. Out on the Atlantic, it was almost easy to pretend that he didn’t want more. That he didn’t want the comfort of a lover, someone to hold him and sweep him off his feet.
His current occupation didn’t exactly lend itself to helping in that regard either, but if Simon was already okay with him being an illegal purveyor of goods he needed to take what he could get.
Maybe…maybe Simon wouldn’t make him wear dresses.
A calloused hand brushed against his cheek and Baz realized with horror that he was crying. He slapped Simon’s hand away in annoyance and wiped roughly at his face with the hem of his shirt. Nicks and Slicks, could this be any harder?
“Baz,” Simon started quietly, “why are you telling me this?”
“Because I like you, you utter moron!” Baz snapped, more annoyed with himself than with Simon. “And if you don’t feel even remotely the same way then that’s okay! I’ll get on that boat and you’ll never have to deal with me again!”
The tears were starting again, and Baz raged at his turbulent emotions. He was supposed to have gotten this all out quickly and easily, and wouldn’t pressure Simon one way or the other. Not sob and make a scene while professing his undying love.
“Santa María,” Simon chuckled as he pulled a rag out from his back pocket. The thing had probably been used on the damnable cows, but Baz accepted it anyway and blew his nose. “There, can you breathe again?” Baz growled at him in response which brought another chuckle to the farmer. “You’re probably going to be mad at me for asking, but what was with the groping before the confession?”
“Because I’m a g-girl,” he wheezed out painfully, hating the way the word rolled off his tongue and fighting every urge to run away and immolate himself. “So you can make a proper decision.”
Simon had moved closer to him on his knees, and the seated Baz found himself in the odd position of having to look up at the other man. Those blue eyes were studying him curiously.
“Okay, you like me. That’s fine. But why the groping?”
“Don’t make me say it again,” Baz grumbled, looking down at the dirt and grass.
“You said that you were going to be honest with me,” Simon continued, “but I don’t think you are.”
“Look, Simon, should I get on that ship or not?” Baz snapped, doing everything in his power to dance around the very thing Simon wanted to discuss. Not exactly a hopeful start to a long-term relationship.
“Baz, you’re not a woman.” The words were spoken clearly and without any hesitation, and it made Baz’s head whip back to looking at Simon.
“What?” he gasped.
“It’s painfully obvious that you aren’t,” Simon snorted in amusement. “You can’t even say it!” Baz sputtered in embarrassment and confusion, but Simon carried on. “And look, if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can have a grope too.”
Simon took Baz’s hand and shamelessly pressed it against his own chest. Baz could have sworn that he swooned at the feeling, a soft plumpness over the work-hardened muscles.
“You’re ridiculous,” Baz whispered, not moving his hand away even when Simon’s hand dropped to his shoulder.
“Does it help?”
“I…”
Not for the first time, Baz found himself speechless in front of Simon. His grey eyes stared up in wonder at this beautiful human being, taking in every freckle and mole.
“Maybe this will help some more.”
Simon leaned in carefully, their noses brushing against each other’s softly for a moment before their lips connected. It was like canons from El Morro were raining down around them, explosions of wood and shrapnel sending his system into a rush of emotions and a high that he’d never felt anywhere but battle and in the midst of a storm on the ocean.
But there was no injuries or threat of death with this kiss. Just soft and insistent lips, tugging and delving in like the lapping waves against the shore. When Simon finally pulled away, Baz felt thunderstruck.
“You want me to stay?” he finally whispered, head still spinning.
“Of course I do,” Simon replied easily. “I like you, and I’d be happy to have you around more.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that…that I’m not a girl?”
Curls bounced as Simon shook his head. “We’ve got space and privacy on this set of hills.” A breeze blew past them and both men automatically looked out towards the ocean off in the distance. “No one will bother us here, Baz.”
“Well, in that case…”
As Baz grabbed fistfuls of sweaty shirt and pulled Simon into another kiss, he couldn’t help but think that his father had always been full of shit anyway.