A/N: So, I debated not cross-posting this one for a few different reasons, but I eventually decided to just bring it over with a few specific chapters removed. Hope you guys like it! From here on out, the author's notes will be the ones I originally posted these with back when I first wrote them.

Well, it says "ups and downs," but let's be honest. The vast majority of fic ideas I've thought of are pure fluff.

A few warnings. These are just in whatever order I think of them, not chronological order, and they aren't Brit-picked.

This turned out completely different than I planned, but I hope you enjoy!

...

Baz

I think I spend more time at Snow and Bunce's flat than my own. They're both peaceful, but mine is the kind of peace that comes with emptiness. Their flat has a kind of chaotic peace; there are always things strewn about, sometimes floating when Bunce is too preoccupied or lazy to get up for them, and it feels exactly how it should.

It's still strange to have times like this, though. I'm sitting on the couch and Snow's on the other end, my feet tucked under his legs, and we're just reading our textbooks. In quiet moments like this, I still always feel like something huge and terrible is going to happen, like it always does when he's around. It makes me antsy. I decide to make some tea, just to have something to do.

"Snow, do you-"

"Simon."

"What?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why are you saying your own name?"

He sighs. "My name is Simon. Why is it still so hard to get you to call me that?"

I roll my eyes. I don't understand why it still bothers him so much. "Eight years of conditioning isn't undone that easily."

He turns back to his book. "Yeah, I guess you're right…" he says, but he's pouting now.

Crowley, I cannot stand it when Simon Snow pouts. I've never been able to, but in the past I was allowed to turn away and ignore it. It's nearly impossible to not look now, and I can't handle it. So I scoot forward, as close to my boyfriend as I can get, and hook my knuckle under his chin, forcing him to look at me. "Besides," I say with a small smirk, "I like calling you something that nobody else does."

He's trying to fight it, but I can tell he wants to smile. "Does it have to be my last name, though? Only teachers ever call me that. It's a little weird. Most couples have normal pet names."

I laugh and give him a quick kiss. "Do you really want me to call you 'baby' or 'darling?'" I ask, lowering my voice mockingly on the nicknames.

"No, I guess not…" he answers, making a face, but he's blushing.

"You do!" I say disbelieving. I can't help but laugh, but I'm already wondering whether I'd be willing to sacrifice my dignity to make him happy.

(I would. Of course I would. I would sacrifice anything to keep him alive and happy, least of all my dignity.)

"No!" Snow exclaims. "I don't. It's not that. It's just…" he drifts off, coloring even more.

"It's just what?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

I grin. "Oh no. I'm curious now. I have to know." He looks like he's about to keep protesting, so I add, "You know I won't give up until I figure it out."

He sighs and looks down, mumbling something. Of course I can hear it, but it's so quick and slurred that I can't understand it.

"What was that?"

"That voice…" he says slightly louder, before burying his face in his hands.

"Oh?" I smirk. Oh. Well, that's something to remember. I lean right up to whisper in his ear and lower my voice again. "Does it get you hot, Simon?"

He doesn't answer or lift his head, but I can feel the heat radiating from his face. I don't know if it's the voice or the use of his first name that did it (probably both), but that is definitely something to remember. For later. For now, I think I'll go make that tea.

I hop off the couch and head for the kitchen. When I get to the doorway, I ask, "Want some tea, Snow?" I turn around, and he's glaring murderously at me, still red as a tomato. I just laugh and walk away.